Submission
by PrinceofElsinore
Summary: Sequel to "Obsession." AU. Ludwig and Gilbert Beilschmidt are normal brothers. Close, but normal. At least, that's what they pretend. But they share a secret that could destroy their family, friendships, reputations, and even their relationship with each other. And trying to keep up the façade of normalcy every day takes a toll. How much can their love for each other withstand?
1. Chapter 1

_Warnings: some language and sexual references/content (Yaoi, boyxboy), incest-don't like, don't read!_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya, but this story idea belongs to me._

__...

Chapter 1

_"I hate you! I hate you I hate you I hate you!"_

_ Ludwig looked up from his multiplication worksheet at the sound of his brother's voice ringing through the house. Footsteps rushed up the stairs, past his bedroom door, and down the hall to Gilbert's room. A door slammed shut, making the family pictures that hung in the hallway rattle in their frames._

_ Ludwig waited in trepidation, but did not hear his father's footsteps following. Silently, he slipped off his bed and peeked into the hallway. It was empty._

_ Downstairs, he could hear the sliding door that opened onto the back porch open and shut. His father had gone outside._

_ Cautiously, Ludwig padded down the hall and knocked softly on his brother's door._

_ "Gilbert? …Gilbert, can I come in?"_

_ There was a pause, then a wet "I just wanna be alone."_

_ Ludwig hung his head. He wished he could make his brother happy. So often, he seemed sullen or angry. The only time he seemed happy was when he was doing something that would only get him into more trouble with Dad. Ludwig tried to warn him, but Gilbert just brushed him off or got annoyed, complaining that Ludwig was being "un-awesome" and that big kids didn't have to listen to stupid parents. That always shut Ludwig up. He didn't want Gilbert to think he was un-awesome._

_ Ludwig had turned away and started trudging back to his room when he heard Gilbert's voice through the door again._

_ "Wait, Lud—" The door opened. Gilbert stood there, eyes red-rimmed and downcast. "You—you don't have to go. You can come in, if ya want," he offered._

_ He stood back and let Ludwig into the room, then closed the door again._

_ Ludwig perched on the foot of Gilbert's bed. Gilbert flopped down beside him, sprawled out on his back. Ludwig decided to lay down too, looking over at his brother._

_ "What were you arguing about?"_

_ Gilbert sniffled. "Nothin'. Just somethin' stupid."_

_ "…It didn't sound like nothing."_

_ "Tch." Gilbert turned to him and ruffled his hair. "Stop being a smarty-pants."_

_ Ludwig pouted. "I'm not."_

_ Gilbert sighed. "It's just…" He sniffed again. "It's not fair! None of my friends' parents are even half as strict as him! He doesn't let me do anything! It's like, he thinks I'm just gonna get into trouble if he gives me the tiniest bit of freedom."_

_ Ludwig didn't say that Gilbert seemed to get into plenty of trouble even without more freedom. "Well… maybe you can negotiate something. Maybe you could talk and see what you could do that would prove you're responsible enough to have more freedom."_

_ Gilbert narrowed his eyes at him and snorted. "You'll be a great diplomat when you grow up. Or a lawyer or something. Anyway, it's easy for you to say. He listens to you. He just doesn't listen to me."_

_ Ludwig bit his lip. He wanted to say it wasn't true, but even at 11 years old he was well aware of the fact that he could get what he wanted from their father much more easily than Gilbert could. Gilbert knew it too; it was why he often asked the boy to make requests and suggestions for him, though it didn't work in every situation. Ludwig could ask if he and Gilbert could play soccer, or for the family to go to Gilbert's favorite restaurant, but he couldn't ask for them to go to PG-13 movies, and he certainly couldn't put M rated video games that Gilbert wanted on his Christmas list._

_ Gilbert's face screwed up again. "He won't let me go to this party tomorrow just 'cause the guy who's hosting's parents won't be there. But like, half the grade is going! This is why no one thinks I'm cool! This is why I don't have more friends…" He broke off, lips quivering as he struggled to hold back tears. He sniffed and set his jaw determinedly._

_ "…I think you're cool," said Ludwig quietly._

_ Gilbert snorted, but the corner of his mouth twitched up a bit. "Thanks, Lud. Tch, I don't need more friends anyway. I like being alone." He glared at the ceiling._

_ "But… you're not alone," Ludwig said, confused._

_ Gilbert looked at him. "What?"_

_ "I'm with you."_

_ Gilbert smiled a little and rolled his eyes. "I meant in general, stupid."_

_ Ludwig frowned. "I'm not stupid."_

_ Gilbert snorted. "I know, don't take everything so literal."_

_ "Literally."_

_ "Huh?"_

_ "It would be, 'don't take everything so literally' because it's an adverb, not an adjective."_

_Gilbert stuck his tongue out at his younger brother. "Whatever. I'm too awesome for grammar."_

_ Ludwig looked at him skeptically. "But grammar rules apply to everyone. Even presidents have to use correct grammar."_

_ "Our current president messes up grammar all the time. So there." Gilbert frowned. "But, actually he isn't awesome, so… never mind. But Lud, no one's gonna think you're cool if you're always such a grammar Nazi."_

_ "Daddy said not to use that word."_

_ "I don't give a fuck what Dad says."_

_ "Gilbert!" Ludwig squeaked, scandalized._

_ Gilbert laughed at him. "It's so easy to get you going."_

_ Ludwig pouted. "Stop teasing me."_

_ "Loosen up."_

_ Ludwig crossed his arms. "Why should I?"_

_ "Because, otherwise…" Gilbert's eyes gleamed mischievously. "I'll get you with the slobber finger!"_

_ Ludwig squealed as Gilbert licked his finger and darted it out to poke his brother's cheek. Ludwig grabbed his wrist to stop him, but Gilbert's fingers were long and he still managed to twist his wrist so he could touch Ludwig's bare forearm with the wet finger._

_ "Eeww!" Ludwig rubbed his arm off frantically on Gilbert's shirt._

_ Gilbert laughed and licked his finger again, causing Ludwig to practically scream in terror. They wrestled around on the bed, Gilbert's laughter punctuated by Ludwig's string of "stop it stop it no please Gilbert no nonono!"_

_ Finally Gilbert relented. "Kesesese, fine fine, I promise not to."_

_ Ludwig stuck his tongue out. "Meanie."_

_ Gilbert smirked and lay back down beside his brother. He fell silent, looking at the ceiling. Ludwig waited, wondering what he was thinking._

_ Gilbert looked over at him. "I wish I was more like you."_

_ Ludwig blinked in surprise. "Why?"_

_ Gilbert looked down, suddenly sheepish. He shrugged. "Just… Dad loves you more than me," he said quietly._

_ Ludwig's eyes widened. He wasn't sure how to respond to that. "I… I don't think… no he doesn't." He knew that's what he was supposed to say. He knew parents were supposed to love their children the same._

_ Gilbert was silent. He looked like he was holding an egg in his mouth and trying not to crush it. But then he swallowed it, and Ludwig could almost follow the lump going down his throat with his eyes._

_ "Things would be different… if Mutti was here," Gilbert whispered._

_ Ludwig held his breath. Gilbert hardly ever talked about their mother. She was always Mutti, because she hadn't come to America with them, when their father started insisting on speaking English at home._

_ "He, he blames me, that she left." Gilbert was staring into space, recalling a distant childhood in a distant country of which Ludwig had no memory._

_ Ludwig waited, but Gilbert didn't say anything more. "…Why do you think she left?"_

_ Gilbert shrugged morosely. "I dunno. I was only four, and you know Dad won't talk about it. Maybe it was me, for all I know."_

_ "That doesn't make any sense. Why would she leave because of you?"_

_ Gilbert didn't respond immediately, just breathed in and out a few times. "I don't know. Maybe she didn't want to have to pay for medical stuff, like my eye surgery. Dad says… well, one time when I asked him, all he said was that she wasn't ready for kids. I mean, they had to look after me, especially early on. My vision was even worse before the surgery, and all the stuff about skin care, on top of normal kid stuff. Or maybe… maybe she just didn't want a kid who looked like me. You know, moms want a kid that other people will be jealous of, right? And who would be jealous of me?"_

_ Ludwig stared at his brother, unsure what he should say. Gilbert was just lying there, looking at the ceiling. Something was nagging at Ludwig's mind though. "Gilbert… do you wish you looked like me?" he asked hesitantly._

_ Gilbert stiffened. He turned his gaze on his brother, and there was something in his eyes that Ludwig couldn't quite recognize, but it made him squirm and wonder if he shouldn't have asked. But then Gilbert looked away. He shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder what I would look like if I wasn't albino. I think I would look like you. But whatever. I don't care."_

_ Ludwig was confused. Without thinking, he blurted out, "I wish I looked like you."_

_ "No you don't," Gilbert spat, a little more viciously than he intended._

_ Ludwig's lip quivered. He thought that would make Gilbert happy to hear. And it was true, too—sometimes, when Ludwig looked in the mirror, he wondered why he and Gilbert were so different, why Gilbert was so unique, while he was so boring. In fact, everything about Gilbert seemed exciting, while everything about him was plain, looks, personality and all. He would wish then, that he too had hair that shone like white gold in the sun and eyes like pools of fire._

_ "Wh-why are you angry at me?"_

_ Gilbert sighed. "I'm not. Just… you don't want to look like me, trust me."_

_ Ludwig pursed his lips. He disagreed, but he kept that to himself._

"…_What did Mutti look like?" Ludwig had asked before, but he always liked hearing Gilbert describe her. Their father didn't keep any pictures of her in the house, at least not that Ludwig had ever seen._

"_I've told you, Lud."_

"_Tell me again."_

_Gilbert sighed again. "Okay. I don't remember her very well, but I remember her being tall, though maybe that's just because I was little. She had blond hair, but not as blond as Dad's. Kind of ash-blond, maybe, or strawberry—I'm not sure. I think she was pretty solid—not fat, or super skinny. I remember her being soft, though. That's what I remember best, when she would hold me and I'd cuddle up to her. She was warm and soft."_

_It struck Ludwig that he had no recollection of anyone ever holding him like that. His father wasn't very physically affectionate, and Ludwig had always been more reticent about hugging than Gilbert, though he had no idea why. Maybe this had something to do with it._

"_What was she like?" he whispered._

_Gilbert thought for a moment. "I can't say for sure. I mean, I remember being in her arms, and I remember her standing at the stove cooking something that smelled good, and this snatch of her driving the car... but I also have these vague memories of her being angry, with me or Dad… I don't know. I do remember her scolding me for sneaking extra dessert once. Oh yeah—and there was this song she would sing at bed time to get me to go to sleep… I don't remember how it went." He blinked a few times. "I guess I loved her."_

"_You miss her?"_

"_I didn't get to know her well enough to miss her. But, sometimes I wish she was here, or that we had a mom. Not just Dad."_

"_Gilbert… do you hate Dad?"_

_Gilbert was silent for a long time. He chewed his lip. "No," he said quietly, "I don't really hate him. I just wished he loved me more."_

…

"I should go." Ludwig's eyes connected with his brother's over the pillow where their heads rested. "I should shower before class."

"Oh, right." Gilbert swallowed. Yes, they both needed to shower. Because of what they had done last night.

Lips, soft as two petals, pressed against his and lingered for a moment.

It filled Ludwig with a giddy joy to kiss his brother like that. But it was still so foreign; every touch seemed so new. It was thrilling, but it made him nervous. He was testing the waters. Feeling in the dark for the strange, redefined, warped boundaries of their relationship. Was a sweet goodbye kiss too close to what a boyfriend would give? What was truly brotherly about any of this?

He drew away from the kiss, and without waiting for a reaction slipped off the bed and grabbed his clothes off the floor.

Gilbert watched him as he dressed, his eyes unreadable. "When will I see you again?"

Ludwig turned to his brother. The words felt like something out of a movie or a novel. Is that what their lives had become? A story of forbidden romance, lovers meeting in secret? Or was that too favorable a picture of what this really was?

"When do you want to see me again?"

Gilbert stiffened at the question. Then, carefully, he spoke: "Tonight?"

"Sure." Ludwig nodded, trying to seem casual, not letting on how much that one word meant to him. His brother wanted to see him again, _tonight_. Maybe this was okay after all. Maybe Gilbert really did want it too.

Gilbert breathed an inward sigh. He needed that reassurance. He needed now, more than ever, proof of Ludwig's love, to know that Ludwig really didn't hate him, to know that everything would—just maybe—be alright. He had been relieved beyond words when he had awoken this morning to find Ludwig still slumbering peacefully by his side. But still, he worried that Ludwig might change his mind, try to do the noble thing, and run away again. He worried that someday soon he might find that Ludwig had left without warning, bags packed and car gone.

But for now, he could worry less about that, and more about what would happen tonight.

…

Professor Kirkland cleared his throat. "So, in chapter six of Part Two, Emma has sunk into self-pity because her desire to be a virtuous wife for Charles cannot outweigh her desire for Leon. Let's take a look at what happens when she goes to the church, seeking spiritual guidance. I'm going to read a bit of the exchange between Madame Bovary and the priest, when she's trying to express her distress, starting on the bottom of page 75:

"'"Yes," said he, when he returned to Emma, unfolding his large cotton handkerchief, one corner of which he put between his teeth, "farmers are much to be pitied."

"Others, too," she replied.

"Assuredly. Town-labourers, for example."

"It is not they-"

"Pardon! I've there known poor mothers of families, virtuous women, I assure you, real saints, who wanted even bread."

"But those," replied Emma, and the corners of her mouth twitched as she spoke, "those, Monsieur le Cure, who have bread and have no-"

"Fire in the winter," said the priest.

"Oh, what does that matter?"

"What! What does it matter? It seems to me that when one has firing and food-for, after all-"

"My God! my God!" she sighed.

"It is indigestion, no doubt? You must get home, Madame Bovary; drink a little tea, that will strengthen you, or else a glass of fresh water with a little moist sugar."

"Why?" And she looked like one awaking from a dream.

"Well, you see, you were putting your hand to your forehead. I thought you felt faint." Then, bethinking himself, "But you were asking me something? What was it? I really don't remember."

"I? Nothing! nothing!" repeated Emma.'

"So… what's happening here? Who'd like to give their interpretation?"

Ludwig kept his eyes down on his book and pretended to be reading something. He hadn't finished the assigned pages for this week. Kirkland didn't usually call on people who didn't raise their hands, but Ludwig didn't want to take any chances. And he didn't want to disappoint his teacher.

Mathias, of course, was ready with an answer. "Well, it seems to be illustrating just how little people know of each other. I mean, the priest is supposed to be there to help people, but he's completely oblivious whenever she tries to bring up her problems. It really shows how far off the mark someone can be about what somebody else is thinking. Which is important in other parts of the book, too, like later when Emma's husband is so clueless that she's having affairs with other men. He's completely blind to her contempt of him and infidelity."

"Exactly." Kirkland nodded.

Ludwig grumbled inwardly. The walking-talking SparkNotes had done it again.

Just then the door opened and a latecomer tried to enter the room as discreetly as possible. Kirkland ignored them and went on, but Ludwig happened to glance up, only to immediately bury his nose back in his book.

It was Angie. Ludwig had almost forgotten he would have to see her today.

She took a seat at the back of the room. Her usual seat next to Ludwig wasn't open anyway. It took him a few seconds to zone back in on what Kirkland was saying.

"…a basic failure of communication. And that, that inadequacy of words to communicate true inner experience, that lack of true connection between minds, is indeed very important for the rest of the book. There is a pervasive sense of the futility of interpersonal relations; for all Emma's extra-marital affairs, she never achieves the happiness she expects they will bring. She leads, ultimately, a lonely, isolated existence, as she cannot reconcile the differences between fantasy and reality."

Something in Ludwig's brain clicked. He raised his hand.

"Yes, Ludwig." Kirkland graced him with one of those pleased smiles that Ludwig always craved.

"Well, it's just, that reminds me of what we were talking about with _Don Quixote_. They both seem to be making a sort of commentary on what happens when people try to live out their fantasies, or when they can't settle for reality, or play by the rules of society. Though—" he swallowed, hoping his point made sense, as he felt he had a personal stake in it—"neither of the books actually seem to be portraying society in such a great light either. So it raises of the question of how we're supposed to view these people who don't play by the rules. Are they just, stupid? Criminal? Because, Madame Bovary is committing adultery. Or more like martyrs?"

Ludwig winced a little. Maybe "martyrs" was going too far. At least, he wouldn't call himself a martyr for sleeping with his brother.

But Kirkland's smile grew wider as he tilted his head to the side, the way he did when he was thinking. "That's a very interesting point. And I think an argument could be made several ways. The _Don Quixote_ comparison is an intriguing one, especially if you think of Leon, Emma's first love interest—he reads books too, right? Romances. And he longs to live them out in reality, much like Don Quixote and his adventures.

"But let's leave Cervantes aside for the moment and think about Flaubert: how does Flaubert want us to view Emma? With compassion? Pity? Understanding? Contempt? And what role does society play in this book? Is it an oppressive force? But let's be careful when thinking about martyrdom; is Flaubert really going so far as to present Madame Bovary as a martyr, and saying that society ought to change, to allow more sexual freedom, or even simply more freedom to pursue one's fantasies, whatever they may be, or is he saying, 'this is the way things are, tragic but true, and we must learn to cope with it or fall to our ruin with the Madame Bovarys of the world'?"

Ludwig didn't like the sound of falling to ruin. He didn't say anything more for the rest of the class.

His mind drifted back to last night, to Gilbert's hard body against his, his warmth all around him under the sheets. He wondered what Gilbert had in mind for tonight. He wondered what Gilbert had in mind for the rest of the week, the semester, the year—and how often would they see each other after Gilbert graduated? Would Gilbert want to break off the affair then, if it even lasted that long? Would this continue their whole lives, or maybe only until Gilbert married—but what about Matt? Gilbert had talked about them living together next year—would he still want Ludwig then? Or what if Matt found out? Gilbert would never forgive him—

Suddenly Ludwig realized he was bending the pages of his book in distraction. He quickly tried to smooth them out, and not think too much about Gilbert.

At the end of class, he was grateful that Angie left quickly, so he was spared any awkward interaction. Looking back on it, he was actually quite ashamed of how he had acted with her. What kind of guy did she think he was? Would she tell her friends the whole story, how he'd asked her to do anal when they hardly knew each other?

He was so wrapped up in these thoughts that he didn't notice Professor Kirkland coming up to him as the rest of the class filed out the door.

"Ah, Ludwig, do you have a moment?"

"Oh, sure, professor."

"You know, you make some really insightful comments in class. Are you considering English as a major, by any chance?"

"Uh—" Ludwig was caught off-guard, but flattered. "Th-thank you, um, well, I was considering it—"

"Jolly good! Unfortunately, I never had much success convincing your brother to follow that path, though he really had a lot of promise. What's he doing again?"

"Music and history. But not music history, just, music, with a focus on production, and Central European history, I think, for a double major."

"Ah, well, he must be busy then."

"Yes." Ludwig nodded. He would prefer to get off the topic of his brother as soon as possible. He knew he was paranoid, but he was afraid of giving something away, or that somehow, Kirkland would be able to tell.

Kirkland nodded awkwardly. "Yes. Well. Anyhow, what I wanted to say is that, if you ever want to discuss the English major, feel free to talk to me. We could meet for tea perhaps—or coffee, as you Americans prefer."

"Oh, yes, thank you! I'd like that."

"Brilliant. Whenever you like. Well, so-long Ludwig." Kirkland picked up his briefcase, waved, and was out the door.

Ludwig's chest swelled a little as he left the classroom. Coffee with professors was one of those things he heard about other students doing, mostly older though—when they'd established a relationship. It meant a teacher really noticed you and took an interest in your work. It seemed, to Ludwig, very adult. He found himself wondering if Mathias had met Kirkland for coffee already. He secretly hoped he was the first in their class.

…

"Oh hey Ludwig!" greeted Feliciano as Ludwig entered their room. "I never saw you last night! Did you come back?"

"Oh, uh, no, I—stayed at Gilbert's."

"Ohhh. Again?"

Ludwig blushed slightly. "Well, uh, yes. I was—studying. With him. Or, in his room. And it got late, so." He didn't look at his roommate as he took off his coat and hung it in the closet.

"Hm. Don't you get tired of sleeping on the couch? Or does he have an extra bed?"

"No, I just share—" Shit. Maybe he shouldn't have said that. Feliciano assumed he slept on the couch, because it was weird for brother's to sleep together. Even in a non-sexual way.

But now he'd put his foot in it. "Um, I usually sleep in Gilbert's bed." He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Feliciano's face screwed up in confusion. "You mean you sleep together?"

_That's one way to say it._

"We've shared a bed often enough, since we were little. It's not that weird." He defended.

Feliciano's brow remained furrowed in thought for a moment, but then he shrugged. "Oh," he said, but he still looked confused.

…

Ludwig trailed his fingers along Gilbert's neck and stroked his hair. Gilbert made no response, eyes still on the floor.

Ludwig stopped. "What's the matter?"

Red eyes flickered up to his, then back down. "Nothing."

Ludwig rested his hand on his brother's back. "Is everything okay?"

Gilbert was silent for a long moment. Then he stood, getting off his bed and shrugging away from Ludwig's touch. "It's just… I don't know if I can really… jump into things." He swallowed. "Like that."

A knot formed in Ludwig's chest. "But I thought… you wanted…"

Gilbert turned to him. "I mean, it's not like we have to have sex every time we see each other, right?"

Ludwig blinked. "Oh, I guess, I mean—no, of course not, I just… I, I thought…" He looked down, frowning and berating himself for feeling so disappointed and hurt at that. He shouldn't—what Gilbert was saying made complete sense.

Gilbert sighed. He ran a hand over his face, and sighed again. "Wait a minute, I'll be back."

Gilbert left the room and went downstairs. Ludwig waited, wondering what his brother was doing, and what had changed since that morning. Maybe, when Gilbert said he wanted to see him tonight, he hadn't meant sex in the first place. Suddenly Ludwig felt very stupid and embarrassed.

Gilbert returned several minutes later. He locked the door behind him, walked over to where Ludwig sat on the bed, and began kissing his brother fiercely.

Ludwig was surprised, but responded happily, until he tasted something that made him pull back in shock.

"Gilbert! Did you—did you just go to get a drink?"

Gilbert tried to pull his brother's face back to his, but Ludwig pushed him off. "Are you drunk?!"

Gilbert let go of him and looked away. "Well, it's starting to hit me, yeah."

Ludwig stared at his brother in disbelief. After a few wordless moments he started, "And—and what, you thought I just wouldn't notice? Or that I wouldn't care?"

Gilbert was silent.

Disgusted and angry, Ludwig rose from the bed and grabbed his coat to go. Gilbert stopped him.

"Wait, Lud, come on—"

"No! I'm not—You need to get drunk to stand the thought of having sex with me now? Is that it?"

"I just—I just—" Gilbert looked at him helplessly, leaning against him with his hands balled up on his chest. "Don't go. I wanna be with you tonight. I told Mattie I had too much work to come over 'cause I wanted to be with you tonight," he pleaded.

Ludwig glared. "If you wanted to be with me then why did you have to drink?"

"I just… I just… need to get used to it, you know? Please… please…" Gilbert's hands were kneading into Ludwig's shirt front. His head loomed closer.

The better part of Ludwig said he should leave, but he lost all willpower when he felt his brother's mouth on his jaw and neck.

"I'm not even that drunk," Gilbert whispered hotly against his ear. His breath smelled of vodka.

But Ludwig was already aroused. He let his brother push him into the big comfy chair. Gilbert dropped down between his legs and began tugging at his pants. Ludwig helped him shuffle them down his thighs.

When Gilbert's scorching, velvet mouth enveloped the head of his cock for the first time, Ludwig nearly screamed. His head lolled back against the chair as Gilbert sucked him, though occasionally he managed to look down to see the head of white hair bobbing up and down, those blood-red eyes gazing up at him through feathery white lashes.

Just like he'd imagined so many times… but not quite.

...

A/N: And so it begins/continues. This is the sequel to "Obsession," in case you didn't catch that, and I highly suggest you read that series first! I hope you all enjoyed this start to the sequel! I have so much work to do right now, but I just really felt the need to get it started. Probably won't be able to update for a couple weeks at least, though. Hope everyone has a happy holiday season!

Please leave a review, if you'd be so kind! They're like Christmas come early to me, really. I love knowing what my readers are thinking! Thanks so much for reading and supporting this work!


	2. Chapter 2

_Warnings: language, harassment, Yaoi-graphic boyxboy sexy times, incest_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia does not belong to me :(_

...

Chapter 2

"Let's go see a movie." Matthew turned to his boyfriend with a hopeful light in his eyes and a soft smile on his pink lips.

Gilbert gave a lopsided grin in return. "Can we neck in the back row?"

Matthew blushed, unsure how to react, but then giggled nervously in spite of himself.

Gilbert loved the way his adorable blush spread down his neck. He and Matt had just made up, and at the moment he was feeling lighter than he had in what seemed like eons. With Matt, it was so simple. They could walk down College Walk hand in hand in the sunshine, as they were doing now. They could kiss (however briefly, due to Matthew's shyness) in front of the library, as they had seconds ago. And it was okay, it was normal, it was how things were supposed to be.

Gilbert didn't think about Ludwig. Not for the moment, at least. He would have to think about him soon—_tonight_, he had said—but not yet.

Matthew avoided Gilbert's question by asking one of his own. "What's out right now?"

"Hmm, dunno. Nothing good."

"You mean nothing with lots of car chases and explosions and sex?" asked Matthew dubiously.

"Hey, I have more complex tastes in movies than that!"

"Oh?"

"Yeah, like, comedies, and—and stuff with good stories!"

Matthew tried not to snort. "Oh, okay, so do you like rom-coms?"

Gilbert winced imperceptibly. "Uh… sure, yeah, I mean, in moderation. The good ones."

"Name a good rom-com."

Gilbert couldn't.

Matthew sighed. "_Love Actually_? _Four Weddings and a Funeral_? _Notting Hill_? Julia Roberts is a goddess. Oh, and the oldies but goodies: _Say Anything_, _Tootsie_, _Annie Hall_, _When Harry Met Sally_... Haven't you seen any of them?"

Gilbert shook his head.

"That is going to have to change. What about musicals?"

"Well, sure, yeah. I like musicals." Gilbert shrugged. He normally wouldn't admit to liking musicals (_Rent _and _The Phantom of the Opera_ were among his secret pleasures, especially for singing in the shower), but he supposed he could sacrifice a bit of pride for Matt's happiness.

"Good! Then we can watch _Mamma Mia_! I love Meryl Streep!"

"…You know come to think of it there was a new sci-fi thriller playing at Cinema 4 that I kind of wanted to see—"

"Nope." Matthew grinned happily. "Tonight we are experiencing the romantic magic of the Greek Isles and Colin Firth."

Gilbert felt a sudden lurch of guilt. "Tonight? Uh… I—I really can't do tonight, I… have to finish an assignment…"

"Oh." Matthew looked like he was trying to hide his disappointment. Gilbert felt slimy.

"Um… but, maybe… maybe we'll have time to watch it before it gets too late?" he tried hopefully. It was only 4:30—surely he could fit in a movie with his boyfriend before… before meeting his brother.

Matt brightened immediately. "Okay! We can take the cupcakes back to my room and watch it now!"

They had reached their destination: Matthew's favorite artisan bakery just off campus.

Matthew led Gilbert inside and began surveying the display cases. Gilbert stayed behind him, still nagged by guilt. How could he go from being with Matt to being with Ludwig? Ludwig would want sex. Gilbert had led him to expect it. He felt an uneasy churning in his stomach.

But maybe—maybe they didn't have to have sex. Maybe it would be enough for his brother, if they only had sex every once in a while. Maybe he could still keep it to an occasional thing, so he didn't have to feel like he was cheating on Matt. He wasn't really cheating, was he? Ludwig was his brother, not his boyfriend. He and Matt occupied completely different roles in his life. Yes, it would be fine. He just wouldn't have sex with Ludwig tonight. It would be fine.

"Gilbert?"

"Huh?" Gilbert snapped out of his reverie.

"I asked what flavors do you want?"

"Oh right, sorry."

Together they picked a half-dozen cupcakes—2 maple, at Matthew's insistence—and left with their goods in tow. Matt couldn't wait to start on his favorite flavor, so he took one of the maple cupcakes out of the box and started eating it as they walked.

Gilbert eyed the sweet as Matthew chewed happily. He had never really understood the cupcake craze—it had always seemed rather girlish to him—but if there was one thing he and Matthew unequivocally shared, it was an enthusiasm for all things maple. Smirking mischievously, he leaned in and stole a bite as Matthew brought the cupcake back to his mouth.

Matthew squawked indignantly. "That's my maple cupcake! Yours is in the box!"

"Kesese, want it back?" he asked gleefully, showing off the half-chewed contents of his mouth.

Matthew blushed. "You're disgusting," he complained, but Gilbert could see the fondness behind the admonishment.

He swallowed and smiled. "You can have a bite of mine, then," he said, and nuzzled his nose into the hair curling around his boyfriend's neck, because he knew it would embarrass him. His hair always smelled like strawberries—probably his shampoo. Gilbert made a mental note to check in Matt's shower.

He should have seen it coming. The way the man with the baseball cap—he couldn't have been any older than them—eyed them distastefully as they approached; but he was so unassuming. When he shoved into Matthew's shoulder as he passed, with a sneering, barely-above-a-mutter "Faggots," they were both caught completely off guard.

Matthew stumbled back; the cupcake and the box from the bakery were knocked from his hands and scattered over the sidewalk.

Matthew stood stunned. Gilbert stared in disbelief for the split second it took to piece together what had just happened—and then he was running after the man, fury boiling up inside of him.

"Hey! Asshole!"

The man glanced over his shoulder. "Fuck off, whitey."

Gilbert stopped, rooted to the spot. Seething with helpless rage, he watched as the man disappeared around the corner. He wanted to run after him again, but what would he do if he caught up with him? Make him apologize like a kindergarten teacher admonishing a kid for not playing nice? He would have liked to give him a good pounding, but the other guy was slightly larger. Gilbert almost didn't care—didn't care if he got bruises that would take weeks to heal—but then he remembered Matt.

He turned back and saw his boyfriend still standing in the same spot, staring at the ruined desserts and icing smeared into the pavement.

"Mattie—" Gilbert hurried back to him. "Mattie, it's okay, we'll go buy some more—"

"That _jerk_." Matthew's voice was quiet but trembling with anger and hurt. "He has _no right_—" He broke off, breathing shakily.

Gilbert put a hand on his boyfriend's back, uncertain what to do to comfort him best. "Let's—let's sit down," he suggested, guiding him to a nearby bench.

"Are you guys okay? I saw what happened," spoke an accented voice.

Gilbert looked up and saw a girl, maybe a freshman by the looks of it, eyeing them with concern. She had clear dark skin and long dark hair parted into pigtails. Gilbert thought she was rather pretty.

"Oh, uh, we'll be okay, thanks."

The girl sighed, looking at the spilled cupcakes. "That's so awful."

Gilbert shrugged. "We can get new ones."

"I meant the whole thing. That people think it's alright to do that."

"Oh. Yeah."

"Did you recognize him?"

"No."

"That's too bad. He looked like a student; he ought to be reported to the dean."

"Eh, I doubt the school would do anything. If they followed up on every minor case of harassment—well. They'd be… busy."

"But here—I mean, maybe I'm naïve, but honestly, I'm surprised. This school seemed so gay-friendly."

"It usually is," said Matthew quietly. "Just goes to show. Can happen anywhere."

Gilbert rubbed his boyfriend's back a little, trying to comfort him.

"Tell you what," said the girl. "Why don't we pick up these cupcakes and put them back in the box. I bet if we showed them at the bakery and told them what happened, they might give you a new batch for free. I can vouch for you, as a witness."

Gilbert gave a half-smile. "Heh, thanks. I guess it's worth a try. Oh, by the way, I'm Gilbert."

The girl smiled and held out her hand. "Gilbert? I'm Angie."

…

Gilbert couldn't sleep.

He lay staring at the dark ceiling of his room. The only sound was Ludwig's soft, deep breathing beside him. His brother had fallen asleep long ago.

Gilbert had given Ludwig a blow job for the first time. He figured it probably wouldn't be the last either. He'd been drunk; he'd swallowed his load. His little brother's hot load.

Then they'd gotten naked and made out for a while on his bed. The vodka had made that easier, too. Ludwig was strong and warm and something about his arms pressing around Gilbert's body made him feel very secure. It was so easy to give in. Too easy. Just let go, just float.

But something about his brother was still so young and tender. He could be so easily hurt. He'd never even been in a real relationship before.

Gilbert had to wonder if Ludwig could ever be in a real relationship. When they were kissing, mouths and bodies locked around each other, he could feel how much Ludwig wanted him. It was difficult to resist being so longed for, but it was also frightening. Ludwig should be feeling that for someone else. Was Gilbert ruining his chances of ever finding that? Of ever having a normal relationship? A normal life?

But they'd been over this. Gilbert had agreed to this, and he was sticking to his decision. This was the only way to keep Ludwig by him. Even with a boyfriend who loved him, even with friends who cared about him, Gilbert needed Ludwig. All his life, he'd needed him. More than he'd realized, until recently. He loved Ludwig more than anyone, anything, in the world.

His father had never believed in him. He only ever expressed his doubts in his eldest son. All praise was reserved for Ludwig. This could have led Gilbert to hate his younger brother, had it not been that Ludwig had always so clearly idolized him. In a world where he was picked on in school and had little true affection and support from his father, Ludwig had always been his anchor, his refuge. His angel.

But now he'd seen this angel bare, vulnerable, caught on the razor teeth of lust. Gilbert knew, of course, that his brother was a mortal human, not a divine creature, and had flaws like anyone. But he still felt like he'd personally dragged an angel down from the heavens and hacked his wings into bloody stumps. He wondered if they'd go to Hell together next.

Because surely this, intimate knowledge, of his brother—this raw openness to each other, like pulling off their very skins in each other's presence—was wrong. Right now he could feel Ludwig's hard, warm body pressed against his side, and while there was something undeniably appealing, comforting, even, about that, Gilbert knew that brothers were not meant to find comfort in each other's bodies. They were not meant to lie naked together in bed, as they were now.

Gilbert closed his eyes. He needed to stop thinking about this. He needed to sleep. Thinking would do him no good. At least, not right now.

He could feel Ludwig's ribcage rise and fall with every breath. His whole body, so full of life. Such a perfect, healthy body, full of promise. Gilbert tried not to think how he was squandering it.

He turned to his brother and nestled into him, trying to find some comfort. _He loves me, and that's what counts_, he told himself. He tried to wriggle under his arm. He wanted to be held.

Ludwig stirred and lifted his head from the pillow. "Huh?" He was clearly only half awake.

"Sorry. Will—will you hold me?" Gilbert asked sheepishly, hoping his brother wouldn't remember this in the morning.

Ludwig mumbled something incomprehensible and draped his arm over his brother, snuggling up close.

For someone so large and stern, thought Gilbert, Ludwig was a surprisingly good snuggler. Gilbert felt assured, huddled under his brother's arm. It was still strange to be naked with him and feel the sticky skin of their hips and pelvises pressed together, but Gilbert tried not to focus on that. He focused instead on Ludwig's steady breathing and the constant beating of his heart, and eventually they lulled him to sleep.

…

Ludwig was walking back to his dorm late the next morning, not paying attention to his surroundings. He was too preoccupied. Gilbert had apologized for drinking the night before, and Ludwig had said it was okay.

But it wasn't really. He still felt disappointed in himself for accepting the blow job and making out with his brother while Gilbert was drunk. How was it any different than when Gilbert had kissed him before, when he was high or plastered and hadn't known what he was doing? Would Gilbert ever really be able to accept their relationship?

Again, Ludwig found himself wondering if it wouldn't just be better, for Gilbert's sake, to pack his things and leave. His father would be angry; he wouldn't understand no matter what bullshit excuse Ludwig cooked up, but he'd think of something.

"Ludwig."

Ludwig looked up in surprise. He hadn't noticed anyone walking towards him, but now he blushed. It was Angie.

"Oh, hello," he said uncertainly. She had stopped walking and stood facing him, so he had no choice but to stay and talk. He regarded her serious expression nervously.

"Glad I ran into you. I… wanted to talk to you."

"…Yes?" He didn't want to sound like an asshole, but he did feel extremely uncomfortable.

"I mean, I just, don't want things to be awkward, you know. We still have class together and all."

"No, right, sure. What… what did you want to talk about?" He hoped he sounded helpful and not-awkward.

"Well, I just—look. I don't want to you to think I'm naïve. One night stands are great, and if that's what it was—what we had—that's fine. Really. And we can both, just, be cool with that and move on. Whatever. But, I just, you know, wanted to clear things up. I mean, not that they necessarily need clearing up but—"

She stopped for a moment and looked at Ludwig's anxious face. "Um. Sorry. I'm rambling. Um, yeah. Okay, so, what I wanted to know was, just, whether you'd be interested, maybe, in seeing each other some more. Because, I think you're a cool guy, so, it's okay if you don't want to, but if you were open to…"

Angie trailed off, clearly hoping he'd say something. Ludwig blinked. "O-oh! Um… you mean... like dating?" He was relieved she didn't seem angry at him, but this? How was he supposed to respond to this?

Angie shrugged. "Yeah, sure." She seemed nervous, trying very hard to play it cool, like she didn't care too much about his answer.

Ludwig stood speechless for a moment. But Angie was waiting for his reply. Date? A girl? Well of course a girl. That's what he wanted, wasn't it? He still hadn't told anyone he might like men better, though Gilbert—and Francis—could probably guess as much. And dating would be good, wouldn't it? Maybe it would make Gilbert feel better, put him more at ease. He could show Gilbert he was capable of a relationship.

"Uh, sure." As soon as he said it, though, he realized he wasn't entirely certain what he was agreeing to. And he hadn't even really considered how he actually felt about Angie. He had found her somewhat attractive at the bar, when he was drunk and in need of emotional distraction. She was still pretty now, but did he feel attracted to her?

Angie smiled, relief clear on her features. "Oh, great! Well, what are you doing for lunch today?"

"Uh, no plans…" He smiled weakly. What had he gotten himself into?

…

"So, I'm seeing someone." Ludwig steeled himself for the response.

"…Oh? Who?" Gilbert sounded genuinely surprised, but not unpleased.

"A girl. From my lit class."

"…Do you like her?"

"Yeah, yeah. I mean, I… have to get to know her better though."

"Right, right. Great. That's great."

Ludwig nodded, even though Gilbert couldn't see it over the phone. "Yeah."

"…So…"

"So."

"...Do you wanna come over later?"

Ludwig tensed. What did that mean, 'do you wanna come over'? Sex? Or would Gilbert try what he tried last time?

"Uh, sure…"

"Okay. Um, I promised Mattie I'd sleep over at his place tonight, but… we'd have till about 11."

Ludwig suddenly felt very warm. They would have till 11 for what? Talking? Screwing? What did Gilbert actually want? "R-right, okay. See you in… an hour?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay, then."

"Right. Bye."

"Bye…"

_Click._

…

"Hey."

"Hey."

Ludwig stood just inside Gilbert's bedroom door, staring at his brother. Seeing what he would do. Did the fact he had been on a date—if one could even call eating food together and exchanging awkward small talk a date—with a girl change anything?

Gilbert took a deep breath and stood up. He didn't want to mess this up. He had to make up for last night.

He walked over to his brother, put his arms around his neck, and kissed him softly on the lips.

Ludwig didn't breath for several moments, melting into the warmth of his brother's skin.

Gilbert pulled away and Ludwig's eyes narrowed. "You're not drunk, are you?"

"No," said Gilbert solemnly.

But Ludwig was still hesitant. He looked down. "Gilbert… I don't want to force you. I know that you're… not attracted to me," he said quietly. "I don't want to push you to do something you find disgusting."

Gilbert felt something twist tight in his chest. "I… I don't think you're disgusting…"

"But…" Ludwig swallowed, "you think _that's_ disgusting. Doing that. With me."

Gilbert leaned his head against his brother's. "Ludwig…" He sighed. "I… It's true that I haven't felt the way you've felt for the past… what, two months you said?"

"About."

"Okay. So, I… I do need time, like I said last night. But, I… I want this…"

Ludwig met his brother's gaze. "Do you?"

Gilbert looked helplessly into Ludwig's hard blue eyes. "Don't… don't make this any more difficult than it has to be. I thought we had an agreement."

Ludwig let out a huff of air and looked away. "You make it sound like a contract."

Gilbert grabbed Ludwig's face in desperation and turned it to his. "I love you," he whispered fiercely against his lips, before kissing him hard. He needed to break through this shell of cynicism his brother had built up. It was so much easier, when they both just gave in, didn't think too much.

Ludwig broke the kiss. "Then are you going to fuck me?" he challenged in a harsh whisper.

Gilbert looked right at him. "Is that what you want?"

Ludwig was painfully aware of every inch where their bodies pressed together. Gilbert, Gilbert against him, around him… He wanted him inside too.

He nodded breathlessly.

"Okay then." Gilbert backed away. He jerked his head towards the bathroom. "You should probably clean yourself out first."

Ludwig blinked in confusion, then blushed deeply when he realized what Gilbert meant. "Uh… what?"

"Well I don't know about you, but I'm not particularly fond of shit on my dick. So."

Ludwig was frozen with mortification and shock at Gilbert's sudden change of tone.

Gilbert crossed his arms. "Chillax bro. Everybody poops. The enemas are under the sink." Part of Gilbert couldn't believe he was saying this, so casually, to his little brother. But then, it was so much easier not to acknowledge the awfulness of it all, just to let his mouth run, pretend there wasn't anything horribly wrong with any of this.

"U-u-uhhh, oh… Um, but, w-we didn't—you know, do that, before…"

Gilbert shrugged. "Heat of the moment, yada yada. A good bottom keeps himself clean though. Trust me, you don't want to be a dirty bottom."

Ludwig just blinked. "Right." He hurried to the bathroom, still red as a beet.

He thought as he searched for the little squeeze bottles in the cabinet under the sink. Gilbert seemed so nonchalant about it all. Did that mean he was really okay with it? Maybe everything really was fine. At least he could hope.

"Let me know if you need any help," called Gilbert through the door.

Ludwig flushed again and spun to yell at the door. "I think I can figure it out myself, thanks!"

He figured it would be pretty self-intuitive, but he did read the directions, just in case.

When Ludwig emerged from the bathroom he found Gilbert lounging on the bed. "Success?" he drawled.

Ludwig reddened. "Yes. Ahem."

Gilbert smirked. "Good." He scooted over and patted the spot next to him on the bed. "No one else is home," he added softly.

Ludwig lay down, heart fluttering wildly in his chest. Gilbert started kissing him immediately. Jump right into it, leave less time to think.

Ludwig hoped Gilbert couldn't tell that the enema had actually, embarrassingly, gotten him slightly aroused already. If he did notice, he didn't say.

Gilbert felt like a dirty pedophile. His brother may have been a legal adult and a fully grown man, physically speaking, but he couldn't help but feel that he was hurting him. He, the older one, the one with the responsibility. Acting completely selfishly. But the way Ludwig lunged so hungrily for his mouth, the way his hands grasped his body so greedily… _He wants it, it's okay, he wants it…_ Gilbert tried to ignore that that was probably also how a pedophile would justify his actions.

Soon they were palming each other through their jeans. Gilbert flipped himself around so that his head was by Ludwig's crotch and his feet were at the head of the bed. He mouthed the lump straining at the fabric of his brother's pants and Ludwig let out a shuddering half-moan, half-sigh.

Ludwig wanted to suck Gilbert off. Badly. He practically ripped open the front of his jeans and pulled out his long, hard dick. He loved how Gilbert's whole body tensed when he tried to swallow it whole, but he gagged on its impressive length and had to pull back.

Gilbert rolled them over so that Ludwig was on top of him, holding his shaft upright as he sucked. Gilbert reveled in the sweet, velvet feeling of Ludwig's mouth, but he managed to pull Ludwig's pants down as well. His cock sprang free and hovered over Gilbert's face. Gilbert took it in his mouth and sucked hard.

Ludwig could hardly keep his attention on Gilbert's erection with his brother's mouth working his own. His gut tightened with bliss, and he couldn't help but gyrate his hips slightly so he was gently fucking Gilbert's mouth. Oh, that sweet slide, that softest soft warmth… and it was Gilbert's. _Gilbert,_ his _brother_, with his mouth wrapped perfectly around his cock…

After a few minutes Gilbert shifted slightly so he could bend his head up higher. He braced himself on Ludwig's hips, using his hands to part his cheeks. From here, he could see Ludwig's little puckered hole, surrounded by light, curling hairs, and beyond that his smooth, broad back, and his blond head bobbing enthusiastically along Gilbert's cock.

Oh, God, it was so wrong. And it felt amazing.

"Ffuck, Ludwig—" Gilbert panted as his brother rolled his balls deliciously in his warm, rough hand. Gilbert closed his eyes for a moment, then leaned in to suck wetly at his tiny hole, tongue rubbing against the ring of muscle, as he pumped Ludwig's cock.

"Oh, shit…" murmured Ludwig.

Gilbert smiled and lifted his head. "Please don't," he quipped, before ducking back down.

Ludwig blushed and swatted Gilbert's thigh. "No, you made sure of that," he muttered, before returning to his ministrations.

Gilbert had to admit to himself that it was almost frightening, how easy this was. That he himself could crack a joke while giving his little brother a rim job. But then, he usually dealt with serious things by joking.

Finally, Gilbert pulled away. They removed the rest of their clothes and Gilbert rummaged in his bedside drawer for a condom. "We should use these. We both have other partners now—potentially. At least, until we get checked for STDs." It made Gilbert feel a little better to be responsible about something, at least.

"Can I?" Ludwig asked, reaching for the condom. He wanted to stretch it over his brother's beautiful cock himself.

Gilbert blinked at him. "Oh, sure."

Ludwig unwrapped it and rolled it reverently up his brother's length.

Gilbert felt strange watching his brother handle his hard penis so carefully, lovingly. He wasn't sure if it made him want to wretch or if it was the sweetest thing he'd ever seen.

When Ludwig was done Gilbert positioned himself over his brother. "What position do you want?" he asked softly.

Ludwig swallowed. "Uh…" Doggy-style was easiest, but he wanted so badly to be able to hold Gilbert's hard body against him… He shuffled down on his back and spread his legs apart in answer.

Gilbert stuck a pillow below his brother's hips to lift them higher and tucked his arms under his knees. He positioned the tip of his cock against Ludwig's entrance.

Ludwig held his breath in anticipation. He wanted to feel his brother's cock inside him again, and this time, Gilbert wouldn't hate himself afterwards. He hoped.

Gilbert locked eyes with him just before he pushed in, and there seemed to be some inexpressible question in their carmine depths. Ludwig reached for his brother's hand and laced their fingers together.

Gilbert's breath caught. He'd never felt more exposed to anyone. It was only for a second, but it felt much longer; their eyes connected, their hands connected, their bodies bare and open and about to connect.

Gilbert blushed and broke off the eye contact. He moved his hips forward and felt Ludwig's opening resist for a moment, before finally giving way and letting the head of his cock pop inside.

Ludwig gasped and squeezed Gilbert's hand.

Gilbert used his free hand to pump his brother's length as he eased himself inside. Ludwig's walls constricted around his cock in a painfully pleasurable way. Gilbert groaned slightly. It was so hot inside his little brother…

Gilbert looked down at Ludwig helplessly. He couldn't deny the truth, that he was enjoying his younger brother's body. All he could do now was be honest.

He leaned down to kiss away the frown of pain on Ludwig's lips. Ludwig's arms wrapped tightly around him, pulling their chests together.

Gilbert began to move. It was a rocking motion that moved both their bodies together, pressing harder against each other with every thrust.

Ludwig's mouth hung open with a silent moan. He was so incredibly full, Gilbert was connected to him so incredibly deep inside…

The moan became voiced as Gilbert started to move his hips faster, rolling them sharply into his brother's ass and creating a lewd slapping sound.

"Ooohhhh, G-Gilbeeerrt…"

Their bodies moved in tandem, thrusting, bucking, rocking. Gilbert thought how terrifying it was, that their bodies should fit together so well, when they were never supposed to. A tiny part of him also thought it was incredibly unfair that something that felt so good should be so taboo, and that something so taboo should feel so good.

He panted and grunted, straining against Ludwig's muscular arms around him. He mouthed his jaw and neck and rained sloppy kisses on his mouth and cheeks and eyelids.

Ludwig began to whimper with every thrust. "Hah, hah, mmn, oh God yes, aahh, hhaaah OH FU—AH! GILBERT! THERE!"

Gilbert couldn't believe how vocal his straight-laced little brother could be in bed, but he drank in every delicious sound that spilled from his lips. He slammed his hips into him harder, panting and sweating with the effort. He gazed at Ludwig's flushed face, his eyes cloudy with lust, his usually tidy hair sticking to his moist forehead. His brother had never looked more beautiful.

"Unngh, harder, harder! AHH SHIT, YES, YESSS!" Ludwig was nearly sobbing now.

Gilbert could feel himself getting close too, but he wanted to let Ludwig finish first. He grabbed his dick and starting pumping furiously, trying to make his brother cum.

A minute later he felt Ludwig tighten around him as his back arched off the bed and a ribbon of white blossomed from the tip of his cock. Ludwig groaned loudly as Gilbert milked his orgasm out.

Gilbert continued to pound into his brother's tight, hot hole. His breathing was ragged as he began groaning involuntarily.

Ludwig gripped the back of his neck. "I want it in my mouth, cum in my mouth," he panted.

Gilbert was on the brink. He obeyed without thinking and withdrew, ripping off the condom and quickly shuffling forward so his brother could take him in his mouth. Ludwig sucked harshly, and that was all Gilbert needed to go over the edge.

"OHH, FUCK!" He came explosively into Ludwig's mouth, filling it with hot semen that spilled over his lips.

Ludwig was surprised by the amount of cum, and by how hot it was fresh out of Gilbert's cock. He nearly choked on it, but swallowed as much as he could. He sucked some more to make sure he'd gotten it all before letting Gilbert's member slide out of his mouth.

Gilbert leaned heavily against the wall, skin flushed and gleaming with sweat. His mind was still cloudy with the bliss of orgasm, but one thought kept repeating like a broken record: _My little brother just swallowed my cum. My little brother just swallowed my cum._

He let himself flop down on the bed beside Ludwig. They lay side by side panting for a minute. Ludwig let one of his hands wander over to Gilbert's hip and trace lazy patterns on the skin.

Gilbert turned to look at him, but couldn't think of anything to say, so he went back to staring at the ceiling as his heart rate slowly returned to normal.

Finally Ludwig propped himself up on one elbow and leaned down to kiss his brother. Gilbert closed his eyes and returned it.

When Ludwig pulled back he looked down at him. "I enjoyed that," he said quietly, a little embarrassed.

_I enjoyed that_. Suddenly, Gilbert found that incredibly funny. He'd just had sex with his brother, and that's what he had to say. He started to laugh. Incest. I enjoyed that!

"Kesese, kesese, I—I enjoyed that! Kesesese, that's—kesese, like the new promo for incest! Kesesese!"

Ludwig looked warily down at his brother. "Uh, Gilbert?"

Gilbert took a deep breath and stopped laughing suddenly. "Sorry. Sorry." He ran a hand over his face. Suddenly he didn't look very happy.

"…Are you okay?" Ludwig asked quietly, guilt creeping back into his conscience.

"Fine. Fine." Gilbert turned to look at him, then kissed him quickly. "I'm fine."

Ludwig was about to protest, when suddenly he heard a noise that made his blood run cold.

A sneeze. A very faint sneeze, coming from another room down the hall.

They weren't alone in the house.

...

A/N: I love cliffhangers, in case you hadn't noticed xD Sorry.

Woah, can't believe I am already posting chapter 2! As I said last time, I have so much work-finals gaaahhh! But, fanfiction is a useful stress-reliever. It's nice to write something other than papers every once in a while... Speaking of, I should go work on some papers now.

Anywho, sorry for the little personal tangent. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I didn't think I'd include a full lemon so soon, but, heh, there ya go! I'd love to hear what you think-please leave a review! I'll try to get back to most of them over break!

Thanks so much for reading and supporting this work, and extra thanks to those who left a review last time! I was touched to get so many faves and follows after the first chapter. Love you guys!


	3. Chapter 3

_Warnings: language, sexual themes and references, incest_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia._

...

Chapter 3

The brothers froze, still as deer in headlights. But there was nothing more to be heard from down the hall.

Finally Ludwig turned to stare, wide-eyed, at his brother. "I thought you said we were alone?" he hissed.

Gilbert looked at him helplessly. "I thought we were!" he whispered back.

"Well who is it?"

"How the hell should I know! Probably Rod or Liz."

"Well how much did they hear?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Considering we can fuckin' hear them sneeze, and how loudly you were carryin' on, I'd say they probably heard a lot."

Ludwig blushed. "I wasn't the only one carrying on," he muttered. He pressed his hand to the bridge of his nose. "What are we going to do? Do you think… you know, that they… could tell…"

Gilbert snorted. "I find it hard to believe they'd be able to identify you by your sex noises," he said, but there was no denying the uncertainty in his eyes.

"…You have to make them think it was Matthew."

Gilbert thought for a moment. "Get dressed. Quietly."

They slid from the bed and Ludwig gathered his clothes, heart pounding, as Gilbert pulled on his boxers and tiptoed to the door. He gestured for Ludwig to step aside so he couldn't be seen, then poked his head out into the hall.

Ludwig could hear another door opening. Gilbert jerked his head back, but not quickly enough.

"Oh, hey Gilbert!" It was Elizaveta's voice.

Gilbert cringed, then slipped out the door, leaving it just a crack open behind him. Ludwig edged towards the bathroom, just in case she happened to look in.

"Hey, uh, you're back early…" Gilbert gulped audibly.

"Oh, uh yeah, sorry I didn't warn you…" Elizaveta's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Didn't realize you'd be bringing Matt around…"

"Oh, haha!" Gilbert gave an unnatural sounding laugh. He was speaking a little too loudly. "Guess you heard us… Sorry to disturb the peace!"

"Not at all, glad you two are having fun. Mind if I say hi?"

"NO!"

Ludwig heard his brother back into the door.

"Uh—I mean, sorry, don't think he's uh… decent, yet. Anyway, think he'd be embarrassed, you know…"

Elizaveta tittered. "Oh, well, nothing to worry about—didn't hear _too_ much."

"Good. I mean, uh… yeah, that's… good."

There was a pause. "…Why is that good? Getting kinky, were we?" Ludwig could practically hear the glint in her eye.

"N-no! I mean, oh c'mon, that's private."

"Oh. My. God. You were, weren't you! What was it? Bondage? Wax?"

"_No!_ I'm not talking about this!"

"Ha. You will later. I want all the details."

"You're not getting all the details! Not any of them in fact!"

"Whatever you say," she sang knowingly. "You never could keep a good sex story to yourself. Anyway, I was just on my way out, actually, so, I'll leave you two to it."

Ludwig imaged Elizaveta winking before heading off down the stairs.

Gilbert came back into the room, closing the door behind him and slumping against it.

They stood there for a minute. Neither looked at the other.

"That was too close," breathed Gilbert.

"Nice cover-up."

"Yeah. Well. You should get out of here before someone else comes. Don't want our stories to get mixed up."

"Right."

Ludwig put on his shoes—it was suddenly strange to think how they'd come off, that he'd slipped off his shoes to get in bed with his brother—and Gilbert led him down the stairs.

"When will I see you again?" asked Ludwig. Gilbert looked sullen. He didn't like that.

Gilbert turned to him. Ludwig paused on the last step, looking over the banister at his brother.

Gilbert shrugged. "I dunno. I'm around, y'know."

Ludwig opened his mouth to respond, but just then the front door opened.

"I forgot my ID!" Elizaveta panted, bustling inside. "Left it in my stupid other purse—"

Ludwig barely had time to take in her reappearance when she saw him and faltered. He wanted to bolt back upstairs, but his legs suddenly seemed quite disconnected from his brain's chain of command. It was too late anyway.

Gilbert didn't breathe. Elizaveta blinked. "Oh, hello Ludwig," she said, a furrow of confusion on her brow.

Ludwig couldn't respond. Apparently his tongue was also mutinying against his brain.

Elizaveta glanced at Gilbert, disconcerted by the brothers' tense faces. "Where's Matt?"

Gilbert tried opening his mouth, but he couldn't think of an excuse. He could see the gears working in Elizaveta's mind as she looked back and forth between them. He knew the game was up. He stood in helpless silence, waiting for it to click…

There. Elizaveta's eyes slid resolutely back to Gilbert, her mouth hanging slightly open. "He's not here," she whispered. It was more statement than question.

Gilbert swallowed and didn't answer. He didn't have to.

Suddenly Elizaveta drew in a shuddering breath. She stood speechless, unmoving, for a moment. Ludwig was sure the others would be able to hear his heart pounding to escape his ribcage as he watched, waited. Then, slowly, Elizaveta raised one hand to her mouth, seeming to hold her lips. A look of anguish flashed across her eyes, and then she spun around, groped for the door handle, and stumbled out, not bothering to close the door behind her.

Ludwig turned to his brother, panic-stricken. Gilbert met his eyes, and understood their desperate, unspoken question.

"You just—just go on, go on back home, I'll—I'll deal with her…"

"But she knows, she _knows!_" Ludwig's voice was so tight he was almost surprised he had managed to get any sound out at all. His chest was constricting; he couldn't seem to get enough air.

"I know, it's—it's okay, just go, just go." Gilbert ushered him towards the door, but Ludwig could hear the panic caught in his throat. His brother was trying to keep his composure. With a sensation of tenderness that seemed completely incongruous with their current situation, Ludwig realized that even now, his brother was trying to protect him.

He wanted to stay, to help Gilbert face Elizaveta, stand by him. But Gilbert was insistent, and so Ludwig stumbled out to the sidewalk and forced himself to continue along the familiar route back to campus.

Breathe. In. Out. Walk. Left. Right.

His heart hammered in his ears.

Any moment, he was sure some minute tear in the familiar scenery around him would appear, open up and peel back like wallpaper, confirming the uncanny feeling that nothing around him was quite real. He could feel it all crumbling around him. What he saw was only a façade of normalcy, an empty shell; surely, soon he would be able to see it crumble too.

He stole a glance back at Gilbert's house every three seconds, as if to make sure it was still standing, until it was of sight.

…

Elizaveta rubbed her tear-streaked face as she sat, red-eyed, in Gilbert's chair.

Gilbert stared at her, leaning against his bed with arms crossed.

"This is so messed up," she whispered, leaning her forehead in her hand.

Gilbert stiffened. He didn't answer for a moment. "Maybe. So?"

Elizaveta shook her head. "Gilbert…" She sighed and looked back at him in almost the same exasperated fashion she had used to when they'd been together—except more pained. Genuinely pained. "What do you expect is going to happen?"

He met her gaze, eyes hard. "How should I know? No one can read the future."

"Oh please. That doesn't mean there's no such thing as foresight, which _clearly_ you lack. In _abundance_." Her voice was suddenly harsh.

"Okay, enlighten me," responded Gilbert, a mocking edge in his tone.

Elizaveta glared at him, lips pursed. "You can be so. Fucking. Stupid. You know that? There is no happy ending here. Don't you get it? I mean, _Christ_ Gil, your little brother! _Think of your little brother!"_

"I _AM_ thinking of him! I told you already, it's the only way we can be—"

"Oh for fuck's sake, that is such bullshit! Think! Just think, for a moment! How long do you think you'll be together, huh? Until someone finds out and separates you? Your father perhaps? You think he'd hesitate to cut you off? Because knowing your father, I sure don't. Or maybe until you get sick of each other, or have a falling out, or God forbid one of you decides to settle down in a _normal_ relationship. But however it happens, what do you think will happen to him? You are _hurting_ him Gilbert, this isn't right—"

"YOU CAN'T KNOW THAT. THAT'S NOT TRUE. Ludwig _loves _me and I love _him_ and this is the only way to avoid being _apart_ and that would hurt him more than—"

"Listen to yourself! Gilbert, please, I am begging you as your _friend_. Maybe you can't bear to be apart. But _this is not the solution_. This is _selfish. _And _cowardly_. And you need to figure out a way to stop it. _For_ _your brother's sake_. He needs you to be his brother. He needs to be able to form normal relationships, attachments—"

"Oh c'mon Liz, since when are you such an advocate of traditional values?"

"Don't be obtuse. If he wants a boyfriend, fine. But someone _not related to him_ would be good." She stopped for a moment to get her breath back. She'd been spitting with fury, but suddenly, with her reddened nose and tear-matted eyelashes, she just looked weary as she gazed at him morosely. "Gilbert, you can't let him rely on you for—all his needs. That kind of dependence, it isn't healthy—"

"He has a girlfriend! And, and friends, and—"

"Oh, he has a girlfriend now? So the fact that _both _of you are cheating on significant others is supposed to somehow make this okay?"

"It's not—it's not cheating, it's—we're brothers, we're not boyfriends, Matt's still my boyfriend…"

"Last time I checked, Gilbert, _having sex_ with someone other than your boyfriend, is considered cheating."

Gilbert was resolutely silent.

Elizaveta sighed and rested her forehead in her hand. "Let's… leave Matt out of this. I'm concerned about your brother. And you."

He glanced at her. "We don't need your concern."

She looked at him levelly for a minute. "You never could admit it when you were wrong. But you know you are. You said so yourself the other day. That's what all that was about, isn't it? The mattress, finding Ludwig—you said you'd made a big mistake. And you were right."

Gilbert looked at the floor. "Things have changed since then."

"Gilbert. This can only end in badly, and you know it. And better that it happens sooner rather than later. Cut it off, but be there for him—he'll get over it, and you'll—"

"What do you know?" Suddenly his voice turned fierce. "What do you know about any of it? Maybe we can be happy. We can find a way to be happy." The tears threatening to brim over his eyes betrayed him.

A deep sadness washed over Elizaveta's features. "Oh Gilbert," she said softly, "you have no idea how much I wish I could believe that."

…

_Knock. Knock._

Ludwig looked up from his desk, where he'd been sitting trying to pull himself together before Feliciano got back.

He heard one of his suitemates emerge from the other room to answer the door that let out onto the hallway.

"Hey, Herakles—my brother in?"

Gilbert's voice.

"Think so… hey Ludwig!"

Ludwig stood stiffly and walked briskly to open his room door.

He met Gilbert's eyes silently.

Gilbert swallowed. "Uh, Feliciano in?"

"No."

Herakles slipped back into his room with a friendly nod to Ludwig.

Ludwig stepped back to invite his brother inside, and closed his door behind them.

They stood just inside the doorway, staring at each other intently. "Well?" Ludwig burst out, unable to hold it back any longer.

"She's not…" Gilbert hesitated. "She's not going to tell anyone. She…" He looked down for a moment, pursing his lips with an uncharacteristically pensive expression. "She doesn't agree. With it. But." Gilbert sighed. He glanced back up at his brother and attempted a smile. "It's fine. It'll be fine."

Ludwig was momentarily relieved. She wasn't going to tell. And perhaps she hadn't completely lost her head over it either, perhaps… just maybe, she wouldn't hate them for it.

But his relief was short-lived, as the reality of it sunk in. Someone knew. Someone else knew, and now there was no way to pretend, as he might have been able had it all stayed in a private bubble between him and his brother, that this could somehow be normal, okay. Someone on the outside knew, and was judging them for it, in all likelihood. She saw his sick desire, his perverse, twisted heart. Ludwig had never felt more vulnerable, mortified, stripped bare and laid out under a microscope on an examining table.

He breathed in shakily a few times. Swallowed. "Okay," he breathed. "Okay." As if he was trying to convince himself it was.

Gilbert looked at him a few moments longer, his expression unreadable. "I have to get to Matt's. I'm late," he said softly.

Ludwig nodded, still slightly dazed. But as his brother turned to go, some sudden panic, an urge, seized him.

"Wait!" He caught the hem of Gilbert's jacket.

Gilbert turned to him and stood blinking, waiting.

"A…" Suddenly Ludwig was almost too embarrassed to say it. Stupid. This was a stupid idea. But, he needed to know. He was still feeling for the boundaries, groping for a wall in the dark so he could edge his way forward with a little more certainty. "…Kiss?"

Gilbert just stared at him, that same unreadable expression on his face. Ludwig's heart hammered in his chest and he could feel his face getting unbearably hot.

And then, in two short steps, Gilbert was right in front of him, and his soft lips pressed against his mouth. Ludwig parted his lips, stomach swooping a truly unreasonable amount from such a simple, chaste kiss.

He savored the slight moisture of Gilbert's mouth concealed behind those strikingly ruby lips—he'd always admired how they stood out against his pale skin, fascinated by the contrast even as a young boy—and pulled them into his mouth, wanting him closer. Gilbert was so warm, and Ludwig was scorching, tingly all over, ready to take Gilbert's tongue in—

His brother pulled away, and Ludwig felt as if he were left teetering on a cliff ledge and had just lost hold of his only lifeline. He forgot to breathe for several moments.

"I have to go."

Ludwig couldn't tell if it was an admonition, a warning, or an apology. He simply nodded numbly in return. And then Gilbert was gone.

…

"So where were you?" Matt didn't sound angry, just vaguely confused and concerned.

"Eh, something came up with Liz," Gilbert admitted truthfully as he leaned against the bed. "Had a little… disagreement." Gilbert paused a moment, thinking about the implications of that disagreement, about Ludwig and his warm, live lips… _"A… kiss?"_ he had asked.

Gilbert realized how he must appear to his boyfriend and immediately let a smirk work its way across his face. "It's nothing. She gets way too worked up about some stuff."

Matthew hummed pensively and came to lean against the bed beside him. "It doesn't look like nothing, from your face. Do you want to talk about it?"

Gilbert forced a laugh. "Nah, it's really not a big deal." _Except for that I'm cheating on you._

_No, I'm not._

_Yes, you clearly are._

_Ludwig's not my boyfriend._

_You have sex with him. With your little brother. Having sex with someone who's not your boyfriend is pretty much the definition of cheating._

…_Fuck off,_ Gilbert told the other side of his conscience—the one whose voice sounded disconcertingly close to Elizaveta's on occasion.

Matthew knew his boyfriend wasn't telling him everything, but he decided not to push the matter. Maybe he just needed a little cheering up. He slung an arm around his shoulders and nuzzled Gilbert's pale neck. "Well, how about we snuggle tonight, and you know what we can do tomorrow that always makes me feel better?"

"Hmm," Gilbert prompted Matthew on as he enjoyed the playful prodding of his nose against his nape.

"Animal Kingdom. Have you ever been in there? On the corner of Lakeview and High Street?"

Gilbert chuckled a little. He should have known that would be one of Matt's favorite places. He'd never been inside the stuffed animal store himself, but he'd passed their window before and had suffered several cute-attacks upon viewing their collections of baby pandas, bunnies, chicklets and the like. And of course, Matthew was one of the few people who knew of Gilbert's weakness for all things fluffy and cute. "No, but I think it's about time I went." He grinned.

"Sure is. Life is not lived, until you have set foot in that magical land of adorable splendor." Matthew grinned back.

Gilbert glanced around at Matthew's considerable plushie collection, spread out between bed and windowsill and bookshelves. "So, does that mean every stuffed animal in this room equates to a time you were feeling down and needed a cute fix? 'Cause then I'd have to worry about you being an addict, judging by all this."

Matthew giggled. "Well if it's any comfort, I don't only buy stuffed animals when I'm upset."

"Oh good, 'cause that would make this menagerie a fuckin' depressing sight."

That made Matthew laugh, and Matthew laughing made Gilbert happy; but it was not a full-bodied, uninhibited happiness. The happiness was a warmth that barely reached the subcutaneous level, and certainly did not touch his bones. They felt cold inside him.

The grin slipped from Gilbert's face. "Well I'm fuckin' tired and gotta lotta work to do tomorrow." _Because I was too busy fucking my brother today._

As usual, Gilbert wore his boxers to bed, while Matt wore his flannel PJs. Gilbert felt slightly guilty with so much flesh exposed to his boyfriend's eyes, as if he might be able to read on his skin who else had been touching him, whose fingers and whose mouth had trailed along his torso and neck just a few hours earlier. He pulled the blankets up quickly and wrapped his arms around Matthew's soft middle, burying his nose in the comfortingly familiar warmth of soft flannel. It smelled faintly of lavender—Matt's laundry detergent.

"Hey Mattie."

"Hmm."

…_I love you. I'm sorry. _"...I saw some really awesome pandas in the display at Animal Kingdom a while ago. Think they still have them?"

Matthew yawned. "Dunno. We'll check tomorrow. I'm sure they'll have something you'll like."

"…Hey Mattie."

"Yeah?"

_I'm cheating on you. With my brother. And I'm not likely to stop any time soon. Did you know? Your boyfriend is having an incestuous affair. No, of course you don't know. But he doesn't replace you, Mattie. He doesn't._ "…Never mind."

Matthew rolled over to face Gilbert. "What is it?" He sounded a bit more awake now.

"Oh, nothing, just… I was thinking about what Liz said…"

"…What were you arguing about?"

Gilbert took a deep breath. It was a bit easier to say, now, under the blankets with the lights off. "About Ludwig, actually." Gilbert knew he couldn't say everything, but he didn't think he could stand any more lies. He knew this half-truth wouldn't absolve him, but even a false consolation was better than nothing. Let Mattie think he was confiding in him. It was almost true.

"Oh?" Matthew sounded surprised, curious.

"Yeah… I, uh, I'm worried about him."

In the dim glow of Matthew's nightlight Gilbert could read the concern on his boyfriend's face.

"Really? What's the matter? He's seemed fine to me, when I've seen him around."

"It's just…" Another deep breath. How could he say it? "Liz seems to think… Well, I think it's that, maybe Lud's just having a hard time… adjusting. He, uh—" Gilbert swallowed—"he's been wanting to… hang out with me, more. And, you know, I—" _I want it too, don't I?_ "I'm happy to spend time with him. I… I miss my little bro." Gilbert paused. He did miss him. Or he had, hadn't he? That's why he had wanted Ludwig to come here for school in the first place, wasn't it? So they could spend more time together. "…But Liz seems to think that, uh, I'm… maybe preventing him from… making other friends? Even though he has a girlfriend now! Apparently. Or, at least, he went on a date. …I dunno. I just…" Gilbert spoke slowly, deliberately. "If he needs me, I should be there for him, right?"

Gilbert waited with bated breath. He knew it wasn't really fair, to phrase it like that. Matthew's answer wouldn't really matter, because if he knew the truth—if he knew Gilbert and Ludwig were having sex—he would be horrified. Betrayed. Hurt.

"Well…" Matthew sounded thoughtful. "It seems to me that Ludwig does have friends. His suite has actually bonded really well, compared to the others on the floor. And if he's seeing someone, that's great. I mean, you know him better than I do. But I don't see what the problem is. It must be nice that you can help him with this transition. It wasn't really that way with me and Al. We kinda tried to stay as far away from each other as possible. But as long as it seems like he'll be fine without you next year, why shouldn't you take advantage of the time you have together?"

Gilbert exhaled slowly. He was relieved, and torn. "Yeah, that's what I thought." He was trying very hard not to feel guilty.

After a pause Matthew added, "It's so nice that you and Ludwig are close. I kinda envy that, you know? I mean, I love Al, but… more than half the time I feel like he forgets I even exist."

Gilbert looked over at his boyfriend, trying to hide his inward cringe. But maybe he could divert his attention to Matt and Alfred and away from his own fraternal relationship for a moment. "That's not true. I'm sure of it. Al's just kinda—"

"No, I mean it. He never even remembers my birthday, did you know that?"

"…Some people are bad with dates."

"My birthday, Gil. His brother's birthday."

Gilbert bit his lip. That was pretty bad. He couldn't imagine forgetting Ludwig's birthday. And come to think of it, he'd be quite hurt if Ludwig forgot his. "…Maybe… you should try spending more time together. Suggest doing something you both like. You guys don't hang out much, so how are things supposed to improve?"

"Ha, Al's idea of brotherly bonding is pummeling me with a baseball. It never ends well when we get together."

"Mm." Gilbert was at a loss. He wished he could say something to help. Matt always seemed to know the right thing to say to cheer him up, but Gilbert wasn't so good at that sort of thing.

"Hey." Suddenly Matt sounded perkier. "I know—what if—I mean, it's okay if you don't want to, but—maybe we could do, like, a brother thing. Y'know? You, me, Ludwig, and Al! Then Al wouldn't be able to get away with being such a jerk."

Gilbert tried desperately to ignore his stomach's uncomfortable clutching. This was a bad idea. Him, the two guys he was fucking, and the loose cannon that was Matt's brother. Formula for disaster. But he couldn't ignore the hopeful note in Matthew's voice. "Yeah," he finally forced out. "Yeah, that sounds like a great idea, Mattie."

…

Ludwig ran his thumb over the screen of his phone, rereading the message there for the umpteenth time.

_Hey, I had good time today—we should do lunch again soon._

He wished he had experience with this whole interpreting texts from maybe-girlfriends thing and setting up dates. He had started multiple replies, only to erase them before he could press send.

_Yeah, me too! Definitely!_

Too eager. Desperate. Was it even that good a date? Was Angie just being nice? Ludwig was very much aware that he wasn't too well versed in the art of conversation.

_Yes, I agree._

Formal. Stiff. Loser.

_Okay, when?_

Practical, but lackluster. He needed the right balance of enthusiasm and… coolness. Right. Play it cool, don't seem too needy, but not too cool—don't want to put her off either way.

_Me too, that would be great. When are you free?_

Simple. Not very elegant. But God, he was too tired to think up anything else at the moment.

Send.

The door opened and Feliciano came waltzing back into the room wrapped in a towel, his hair still wet. Ludwig thought for a moment. Maybe Feliciano didn't waltz, not exactly, but there was something dance-like in his motions—always energetic, but flowing, almost graceful. God, that was an embarrassing thought to have about his roommate. Even if they had kissed, that once… maybe especially if? A drunken fluke, that's all that was, anyway. Don't think about it. Not when his roommate was wrapped in a towel.

"Who are you texting?" Feliciano inquired brightly.

Ludwig politely averted his eyes as his roommate dropped his towel to slip on his boxers. Feliciano was far from modest.

"Uh… a girl, actually." Wait, why did he have to add "actually?" Was it unbelievable that he would be texting with a girl? He hoped not. "We, um… went on a date, sort of, and, she wants to see me again… I don't know what to call her at the moment. Nothing official, I guess." _Even though we've already had sex. Even did anal._

Feliciano didn't respond immediately, so Ludwig ventured a look back in his direction. Luckily he'd managed to get his boxers up, but he seemed frozen with a slightly stunned, blank look on his face.

He recovered quickly, though, and smiled cheerily. "A girl? Luddy, you didn't say you were seeing anyone!" He stood with his smile plastered to his face. Ludwig wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but Feliciano's wide grin seemed almost mask-like in its enthusiasm. But then, he had been more excited by lesser things in the past. He was rather inexplicable in that way.

"Oh, um, yeah, Angie—have you met Angie? She's… in my lit class."

Feliciano made a face as though he knew exactly who he was talking about and was delighted, though Ludwig was quite sure he didn't actually have a clue. But then the gears turned in the unpredictable boy's mind, and an expression of true recognition replaced the false one. "Wait… isn't that… Was that the girl we left you talking with at the bar?"

Ludwig blinked. The bar, that was so long ago. But not really, really it was just a few days ago. A few days ago that he had lost his virginity, that he had first had sex with Gilbert…

He cleared his throat. "Ah, yes, that's her." He hoped Feliciano hadn't guessed where that encounter had led. People would judge, if they knew. It wasn't usual to start dating a casual hookup from a bar bathroom.

"Ohhh, she was so pretty! Wow, you're so lucky Luuud! You must be so happy!"

"Um, yeah, I guess. I mean, yes, she seems… nice." _Nice_. That was lame.

Feliciano nodded, wide smile still fixed in place. He tilted his head a bit, as if trying to think of something to say, but them simply gave a short nod and hopped into his bed. "Do you mind using the lamp?" he asked over his shoulder as he snuggled—because really, there was no other way to describe the action other than snuggling—down under his comforter.

"Of course not. Or actually, I think I'll go to bed too." Ludwig knew there was no way he was getting any work done tonight.

By the time Ludwig crawled under his own covers, Feliciano was already snoring loudly. Ludwig looked across the room at his sleeping form enviously. He didn't think he'd have such luck falling asleep tonight.

He stared at the pale streaks of light from an outdoor lamppost slanting across the ceiling, thoughts racing. _She knows, she knows, somebody knows and will never look at me the same again, every time I look at Liz I'll know she knows and all she'll think of when she looks at me is how I've fucked my brother, probably will imagine for a brief moment how our bodies tangle on a bed before she can't stomach it. Gut reaction to limbs twining, skin on skin. The way Gilbert's body fits so perfectly along my back, and there are sheets of black satin around us, God they make him look pale, make his skin as white as dried bones. But then the sheets are gone, and I'm lying on the black bed next to Gilbert, naked, and Elizaveta is standing there, eyes boring holes into me and she's holding the black sheets, and the bed keeps getting bigger and bigger and the space between me and Gilbert is growing wider and wider and the edge of the bed is getting farther and farther away, can't get up, the mattress is much too soft and I keep sinking into it trying to crawl towards Gilbert but he's been swallowed up by black waves of satin, more like water, and the mattress has liquefied and I'm sinking, why didn't I ever learn to tread water? Did I not trust Dad enough to let him teach me? It would make sense, since I never did learn to swim—"Don't you trust me?" "No!"—and shit I'm never going to pass the swimming test I need to graduate, even though it's only three laps in my high school's natatorium. But God, when did my arms get so short? I can't even touch bottom in the shallow end, thank God for these inflatable arm bands with the little purple dolphins. And there's Feliciano and Herakles and Kiku standing at the edge of the pool—"Come on Lud, just five more laps to go!"—they must have changed the requirement since the time I got into the pool—and wow, most of the book club is there, cheering me on, except silent Berwald and Mathias, with that skeptical look on his face, and God I can't do this, I didn't even bring a bathing suit, no one told me I had to pass the test today. But maybe it's okay, being naked in front of them all, because I look just like a little kid again, and it's not so embarrassing when little kids are naked. Wow, my balls haven't even dropped yet. And here comes Angie, she's wading into the pool to help me out, and wow, that bathing suit shows a lot of cleavage—what happens if I get a boner in front of all these people? Even a little kid boner would be embarrassing. But she's already lifting me out of the water to sit me on the side of the pool so I guess it can't be helped, I can't cover myself now, and she laughs when she looks at my tiny dick and says "how cute," and even though I'm still nineteen years old isn't that a bit odd since I've got the body of a five-year-old, is it really okay that she's leaning in and kissing me on the mouth, deep and wet, and all the onlookers—the entire freshman class is in the bleachers now because they called an assembly to watch me take the swim test—are hooting encouragement. She pulls away and my mouth is still open, my eyes closed, and there's some metal poking around against my gums, and this dentist appointment is really overdue. I should have remembered to schedule it sooner since it's up to me now, Dad doesn't do stuff like schedule my appointments for me any more. But I'm here now, reclining in the dentist chair and that light is really hitting my eyes at an awful angle, why can't the dentist shift it just a bit? "Well, Ludwig"—British accent—"looking healthy in there, you had your X-rays last time so I don't need to do them again." Is Professor Kirkland really qualified for this? But then I remember he went to dentistry school before getting a PhD in literature. "Just going to have to do some intensive cleaning." He leans over me again, blocking out that goddamned light—finally—and pulls down his medical mask so he can put his mouth over mine. That's vaguely surprising, but then tongues do clean teeth just as well as those awful scrapey tools, and they feel a hell of a lot better, and I suppose Professor Kirkland knows what he's doing. He pulls back and grins down at me. "A plus, Ludwig. Bring your brother along next time, he's overdue for a cleaning." The idea of Professor Kirkland cleaning Gilbert's teeth—which naturally involves the tongue—stirs a little heat in my belly that feels kind of like jealousy, kind of like arousal._

Ludwig jerked awake with a raging hard-on, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what his dream had been about.

...

A/N: Finally, an update! So sorry for the long wait. My excuse: for the past month I was first preparing to travel to, then travelling to, and then settling in in Germany for a semester study abroad. It's been crazy! But Berlin is a great city and I love it here (in the heart of the German bros... yay cheesy Hetalia moment!). Anywho, I certainly have not forgotten about our boys and am so glad to get back to writing. To be honest, I have no clue how much time I'll have to write in the coming months, but as ever, I will try my best to keep the updates coming, because I am itching to write.

I hope this was decent compensation for all the waiting! Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews (it was fun to see people guessing who sneezed-a lot got it right, but there were some interesting alternatives!), even so long after the last chapter was posted. They are the best motivation for writing more. I know I can't get back to all of you, but I will try my best to answer especially the longer reviews. I really appreciate your taking the time to write them.


	4. Chapter 4 pt 1

_Warnings: language, strong sexual references, incestuous themes_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine._

...

Chapter 4, Part 1

"Ah, Ludwig. Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

Ludwig glanced up from his small table in the crowded coffee shop to see Professor Kirkland beaming down at him, nose tinted pink from the cold outside and panting slightly as he removed his scarf and dripping trench coat.

"Oh hello professor, not at all, I just got here."

Kirkland pulled out the chair opposite him and sat with a content sigh. "Good, good. Been running around all day in this god-awful weather. Really, it's as bad as London rain out there."

Ludwig glanced out the large front windows at the downpour and was glad to be in the coffee-scented warmth of the café. He hummed and nodded in agreement, because really, there wasn't anything else to say.

"Have you ever been to London?"

The question caught Ludwig off-guard. He turned to see his teacher's bright green, inquisitive eyes staring at him in a frankly curious expression. He swallowed slightly; somehow he felt as though he were being inspected, as if nothing could escape that keen, intelligent gaze.

But then he gathered himself. What did he have to fear from such a simple question, anyhow? And Kirkland's expression was not in any way menacing, merely—intrigued.

"Ah, yes, in fact, I was there a couple years ago on Christmas vacation, with Gilbert and my father."

Something vague flashed quickly across the professor's eyes, and he leaned back in his chair, curiosity apparently satisfied. "Oh, too bad, that's such a terrible time of year in the city. Gray and wet and cold—I can only stand London in the summer, really. Did you like it, though?" he added suddenly.

"Well, yes, it was quite cold as I remember, but we were mostly indoors, museums and such. I like that sort of thing though, so I enjoyed it actually." And then he added, before he could help himself, "I don't really think Gilbert did, though."

Kirkland snorted slightly, a partially-fond, partially-wry smile spreading over his lips. "Yes, actually, come to think of it I think he mentioned that once… none too pleased."

Ludwig didn't quite have the time to wonder in what situation Gilbert might have been discussing past vacations with his teacher, before Kirkland stood abruptly.

"Well, you know what you want? I'll get the coffees, my treat."

"Oh, no, you really don't have to—"

"No, no, please, I insist. English gentleman and all that. So what will it be?"

"Uh—just, coffee, black, then. Thank you, really."

"Not at all. One coffee, black, then, and a tea for me," said Kirkland, nodding, before his lanky figure wound its way through tables and umbrellas to reach the counter.

Ludwig blinked. It was odd, talking with his professor in such a casual manner and setting, and yet it didn't really feel all that odd at all, which made it all that much more odd. Ludwig shook his head slightly. He wasn't making any sense.

He glanced around the café again, taking in the patrons huddled over their steaming mugs and books. The clientele was definitely mostly students and professors, and Ludwig thought, not for the first time, that he really ought to try to get into town more. He was glad Professor Kirkland had suggested this place; maybe he would try coming here to study, away from the suffocating familiarity of his own room and the oppressive silence of the library.

When Kirkland returned, drinks in hand, they got down to business, discussing the credit requirements and prerequisites for an English major. It was one of the most credit-heavy majors, which was slightly intimidating, and yet Ludwig liked that he was discussing it, with someone who knew what they were talking about. They were making a plan, and plans were safe, secure, sure.

Kirkland also recommended a few classes that Ludwig take, including a literary analysis course he'd be teaching next semester. That pricked up Ludwig's ears; he'd like to continue working with Kirkland. He knew it was important to establish relationships with professors, and he seemed off to a good start.

"So," said Kirkland, settling back in his chair and relishing another sip of tea, "I was wondering if you happen to have thought any about the term paper. It's still a ways away, of course, but after Thanksgiving the semester goes quickly and it will be over before you know it. Of course, I'll hand out suggested topics, but if you want to come up with your own all you have to do is discuss it with me. I thought maybe, since you often seem very critically engaged with the texts, that something might have caught your interest?"

Ludwig set aside the pad and pen with which he had been dutifully taking notes. He'd barely had time recently to give thought to all his short-term assignments, let alone any long-term ones. But, now that Kirkland mentioned it, there were certain themes he would be interested in exploring.

"Well, to be honest, I don't have any concrete ideas yet, but, I am rather interested by the idea of… well, how… fantasy and reality are juxtaposed, especially through the act of reading. It seems we've discussed that with quite a few of the books, and characters are constantly getting into trouble for letting their imaginations go wild, or for taking what they read too literally and trying to attain the things they read about in the real world. It's as if, for some reason, these authors themselves don't trust the written word, or maybe they're just somehow commenting on its power to shape thoughts, but—it's always an interesting question, whether it's really the act of reading that plants a thought, like say, adultery for the lovers in Dante's _Inferno_, or whether that potential already exists, and reading is somehow a catalyst. But still, without the act of reading, would it ever have happened? Where do you place the onus of responsibility, for the adultery, or Don Quixote's madness, or Madame Bovary's ruin?"

Ludwig stopped, slightly red-faced, realizing he had been talking too quickly. He hoped desperately he hadn't stumbled too much over his words, that he had sounded at least somewhat eloquent and intelligent to his professor.

The tension seeped out of his shoulders just slightly when he saw Kirkland smile and nod, the same smile and nod he so often used in the classroom when he was pleased with a comment or question.

"Well, the question of responsibility is naturally an intriguing one, but I think it really only skims the surface. Stories are, after all, fantasies given form, and in turn, they form fantasies. This is the constant dialogue between those who write, what they write about, and those who read, and I believe it touches on the very reason why we feel the urge to create or consume. Now, you could write a whole dissertation and a half on where reality ends and fantasy begins, or vice versa, for any single author, but for the considerably limited purposes of this paper, perhaps you ought to consider the idea of reading as a form of experience, or perhaps even writing, for that matter. Why don't you take a look back at Montaigne's "On Experience"; there are many promising ideas to explore there, although rather than trying to pass a final judgment on the validity of reading as a form of experience, perhaps you could analyze and contrast how different authors present reading; as pure, truthful experience, or as false, misleading fantasy, and so on. You could take it any number of directions."

Ludwig realized he was nodding like a bobblehead doll and immediately stopped. "Yes, that sounds fantastic, thank you. I'll definitely look into that."

Kirkland looked pleased, and perhaps even excited, which made Ludwig in turn pleased and excited. He checked the time on his phone; he'd have to leave soon to meet Angie for dinner. Their first official "date."

He was about to start making his excuses and pack up when he realized there was something else he'd been wanting to ask his teacher. He steeled himself, gulping down the last of his now too-cold coffee.

"Ah, professor, I was wondering—I remember you mentioned something about my brother, being a good student, and that you wanted him to be an English major? It's just, I was wondering—well, it was surprising, that's all, Gilbert's never really seemed to be one for literature."

Somewhere in the back of his mind he was kicking himself for even mentioning Gilbert, but he couldn't contain his curiosity. Kirkland's comments were just one more reminder that he didn't know everything there was to know about his brother, that perhaps that person he loved so completely and consumingly was more a stranger than he thought.

Something stiffened slightly in Kirkland's posture, the ease and enthusiasm of a moment before gone. He looked thoughtful, and perhaps, if Ludwig hadn't known any better, or rather, hadn't thought it completely absurd, a trick of the lights and his overactive imagination when it came to anything to do with his brother, just a little bit sad, too.

"Surprising, hm. Well, your brother…" Ludwig had to suppress a slight shudder at those words, _your brother_, like an accusation. "Gilbert had a very unique point of view, on… just about everything. Perhaps not your typical English major, if there is such a thing, but it was… refreshing. A very unique voice in writing, too. I remember—" and here Kirkland laughed slightly, that fond, wry grin on his face again—"I remember how his essays used to make me laugh. Always so tongue-in-cheek, irreverent, a real bent for humor. I'd have to curb him back sometimes, but… I thought it was a shame, to let that go to waste. But, of course I understand that he had, has, other passions, talents. And who knows, perhaps he can put his writing to use in those areas." Kirkland was staring into the dregs of his teacup as he added, softly, "I think perhaps I pushed the issue a little too hard, and he pushed back." He smiled ruefully.

Ludwig mirrored Kirkland's grin. "Well, Gilbert can be... quite stubborn, that way." He was thinking of their father.

Kirkland gave another small laugh. "Well, can't be helped. I'm glad to hear he's doing well though."

Ludwig's stomach clenched at that. Then Kirkland added, hesitantly, "Do say hello to your brother for me, won't you? And tell him… well, if he ever does feel like dropping by, my door is open."

Five minutes later, as Ludwig was walking, hunched under his umbrella, to the restaurant where he was to meet Angie, his thoughts wandered from Gilbert and the English major he could have been, to Kirkland, and whether his professor found him half as interesting as he did his brother. Perhaps, after Gilbert, he was a boring disappointment. His brother never ceased to remind him that he lacked a sense of humor. But then he remembered how Kirkland's eyes had lit up when they were discussing his potential paper topic, so perhaps he wasn't so disappointing, after all. Just different.

He stepped straight into a puddle off a curb and cursed, trying to shake the water from his shoe. It squelched, hopelessly soaked, as he continued across the street.

Perhaps he ought to try discussing literature with Gilbert. What did his brother think of Montaigne? Had he read "On Cannibals"? Had Kirkland mentioned incest in his lecture on that essay when Gilbert was in his class, and had Gilbert flinched, or thought of Ludwig and been vaguely horrified and disgusted?

Ludwig watched the colorful smears of streetlights and car lights reflecting on the shiny pavement as huge ideas about the nature of fantasy and reality, experience and thought, took vague, shadowy shape in his mind. But they were far too grand for him to put down in words, not yet, perhaps not ever. And he couldn't help thinking, just for a brief moment, as he stepped through the door of the restaurant on the corner and shook the droplets from his umbrella, that maybe he should have simply written a story about brothers having sex, rather than actually having sex with his brother.

…

A waiter led him to a table by the window where Angie sat waiting. The place was nice enough to have white tablecloths, but they'd both made sure to choose somewhere within their budget. They'd settled ahead of time that they would split the bill—Angie had insisted, and Ludwig hadn't put up much resistance. He knew it wasn't exactly traditional, but nothing about their situation was really very traditional.

Angie gave him a bright smile as he sat down across from her. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting," he said nervously, and the prospect of an entire dinner together, the burden of keeping up conversation the whole time, suddenly seemed quite intimidating.

"No, it's fine! Gave me enough time to look at the menu, and let all the other guys in the restaurant wonder if anyone would be joining me. They'll be disappointed now," she joked, with a self-deprecating laugh.

Ludwig laughed along nervously. "I'm sure they are," he said, because it seemed like the right thing to say, but he blushed slightly.

Glancing around the room quickly, he couldn't help but think that he did seem to be the lucky guy that night. Angie wasn't very dressed up, but her clothes flattered her curves as always, and perhaps dipped a little lower on her chest than usual. Her hair was loose, rather than in her customary long pigtails.

She looked beautiful, he realized, and for some reason that made him uncomfortable. Maybe he didn't like the idea of other guys looking at her, or looking at him, trying to judge whether he was out of his league, or knowing from his awkwardness that this was his first real date, or even thinking that they were an established couple. Maybe it was a combination of all those things. All he knew for sure was that he wished Angie wouldn't lean on the table in a way that squeezed her breasts together quite so much.

Ordering was the easy part; looking at a menu and deciding what to eat didn't require too much talking. Waiting for the food, though, was the worst; nothing to distract them from each other now.

Angie was telling him about something funny that had happened while she was in the library earlier that day, and he was smiling and laughing along as best he could, deliberately not looking down her shirt, when suddenly the absurdity of the whole thing struck him like a baseball bat.

Here he was, on a date in a restaurant with white tablecloths, pretending to do the whole "getting to know you," "taking it slow" thing with a girl he'd fucked against the wall of a bar bathroom. Hell, it was a wonder she could even look at him, considering how he'd acted that night. Sure, it'd been consensual, but they'd both been drunk, and Ludwig had been the one who'd asked for anal. He felt like the world's biggest douche-bag. So what the fuck was he doing in a button-down and slacks, sitting in a restaurant with white tablecloths, looking like 'such a nice boy, so polite, so serious, awfully quiet,' as he'd been described so many times in his life?

And it wasn't only that. The cheerful girl sitting across from him had no clue that yesterday, about this time, he'd been licking his brother's sperm from his face as Gilbert gazed down at him, wide-eyed and practically trembling with the aftershocks of orgasm. That Ludwig loved the feel of his brother's hot, stiff length practically choking him, or sliding into unknowable depths inside of him, and couldn't wait to feel these things again. For the past week had thought about nothing but these things, when there wasn't anything else requiring his immediate attention.

And he had told Gilbert it was alright, because he was seeing someone. He could still have normal relationships, he would show him.

This wasn't even a normal relationship.

He laughed lightly as Angie finished her story, and finally, thank god, the food arrived, delaying the need to come up with another topic.

He was such a fucking hypocrite.

…

Gilbert had learned his lesson well Sophomore year: never drink alone in your room, or else it will become the site of all your drunken, depressed musings and will never be rid of those associations. You don't want that kind of shit in your personal space.

And so it was on the couch of the upstairs den that he settled with a plastic water bottle, filled with half vodka, half tap water. If he put on some music and opened a magazine on the table in front of him, he would look like he was simply enjoying a quiet Friday night in, should one of his roommates happen to walk by. Matt would be coming over later, to spend the night, but by then he would have sobered up a bit, and he could pass off a bit of sluggishness as the result of a few drinks at a party.

It had been Elizaveta who had driven him to this, he told himself. Her pointedly not-accusing looks and purposefully un-judgmental voice while they were both working in the kitchen. Actually, Gilbert had been there first, and then Liz had bustled in insisting that she had to make her dinner right then, like she couldn't wait 15 minutes until Gilbert would be done thawing his frozen pizza and washing his dishes. And then, worse still, her carefully cheerful suggestion that he eat at the counter rather than disappearing into his room, because her food would be done soon and she could join him. Oh joy.

The whole time they sat there eating—or in Gilbert's case, more like picking at his food—Elizaveta carried on a string of chatter, small-talk, with Gilbert giving only the most necessary short responses, not to seem annoyed or angry, but simply to show how much he didn't care, how he could see straight through her talking-about-anything-but-what-I-know-you-do-with-your-brother bull shit.

And now, as if the incessant press of Liz's voice echoing in his head was the only key needed to unlock the door he'd shoved those thoughts behind, everything Elizaveta had said before, when they were talking about what she'd just learned he did with his brother, came flooding to the front of his mind.

He took a swig from the bottle and let it burn his throat, gagging at the taste. He hated vodka, but that was why it was his drink of choice for situations like this. He didn't want to fool himself into thinking he was drinking just to enjoy the beverage; no, he found the nastiest shit he could, because he was drinking to get drunk and that was that.

_Cut it off. Be there for him. Be his brother._

But he couldn't do that. _Ludwig needs me. This is the only way. To avoid being apart._

Another swig.

_Selfish. Cowardly._

…Was it? How could it be selfish, if he was doing it for Ludwig? _Ludwig loves me. Needs me._

_You're hurting him. What do you think is going to happen?_

Two swigs.

…_Fuck. Fuck if I know._

Gilbert took another long swallow, mind drifting to the day before, his little brother down on his knees and Gilbert's cock in his mouth. Gilbert had done it without thinking, had let Ludwig go from kissing him to going down on him, because it was easier to do it all without thinking. And he'd painted Ludwig's face with his come, and Ludwig had licked it off, all of it, carefully using his fingers to gather up each white, gooey string and wipe it off on his tongue, and something twisted up Gilbert's gut, his chest, his head, as he watched in blank fascination, something he hadn't thought about at the time, because that was the rule. No thinking.

But now he was thinking. Thanks to Eliza-fucking-veta. And remembering that moment, that twisting feeling that so completely scrambled his thoughts and caught his lungs and turned his insides to liquid, he knew what it was.

He had liked it.

No, he had fucking loved it.

Long pull from the plastic vodka-water bottle.

_Ludwig loves me. Needs me._

And that was just it. That look of complete devotion, admiration, in Ludwig's eyes as he sucked his brother's cock. The absolute submission as he took his come on his face with a breathy whimper. That was _need_.

Perfect little Ludwig would do anything for his big brother.

_God, I am a sick, selfish bastard._

Longer pull from the bottle.

_But I would do anything for him too, wouldn't I? That makes it okay, doesn't it? …Doesn't it?_

The voice in his head didn't have any more answers.

Even if some dark, twisted part of Gilbert wanted it though, it was still Ludwig who wanted it first, Ludwig who made him choose, _take me this way or lose me_.

So it couldn't be Gilbert's fault.

Unless…

There were some creeping doubts, things whispering in the back of his mind that seemed to be growing gradually louder. He had no idea how long they'd been there; maybe for a very long time, but so quiet he hadn't noticed, or had just learned to tune them out, like static on a radio. Indistinct, fuzzy annoyances he had had no reason or desire to listen to closely. But now they demanded his attention, he couldn't block them out.

Because really, how many brothers their age even shared a bed ever?

And how many slept with an arm around the other at that? How many fucked a girl together? Wouldn't normal brother's find that odd? Wouldn't some alarm go off in their head, _too close, too close_? Hadn't Gilbert himself seen and willfully ignored warning signs? Ludwig leaning into him as he came when they were jacking off together. Ludwig suddenly backing off when they were wrestling in the lake, body and face too tense. Ludwig sitting so close on the couch, just because he wanted to. All the questions about Gilbert's love life.

God, the _kisses_. That was definitely Gilbert's fault.

But Gilbert had let it all slip by, never stopping to question, not even daring to wonder, not even when he knew something was bothering his brother and he'd had the feeling of something sticky and dark in the back of his mind he didn't want to dwell on.

But he should have dwelled on it. Because when it came to Ludwig, it was his job not to flinch away from anything, no matter how ugly, that might be hurting his brother.

And if he'd had the courage to face it before, maybe none of this would be happening now. But he hadn't; he'd been a coward.

He'd been afraid.

Gilbert took another slow, thoughtful drink. Even as it was all coming into focus, everything was slipping back into vodka-induced obscurity, like fiddling with the dial on a pair of binoculars. There was still something missing, he hadn't quite found the perfect dial position that would lock everything into clear, sharp outlines. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

What, exactly, had he been afraid of, even long before Ludwig confessed, before he'd been forced to confront the consequences of his reckless actions?

It all hinged on that, somehow he knew that much.

But now the alcohol had accomplished its intended purpose, numbing his senses and dulling his mind, leveling his thoughts into indistinct, beige blobs.

He went to take another drink, and after a few long moments of tilting the bottle back in vain, discovered it was empty.

The nights they'd shared a bed—which they hadn't done for six years before this semester, Gilbert realized, and it felt like being struck by lightening, but still, what did that _mean_—and the way he'd held Ludwig against him, and the time Ludwig came while leaning against his arm and Gilbert had laughed it off, and just the way he'd caught Ludwig looking at him sometimes—all these replayed like silent, grainy footage in Gilbert's mind, and he didn't understand how he could have been so blind, as fucking blind as Oedipus (the comparison made him snort in laughter to the thin air).

But there was a tightness in his chest, a deep ache in his core, every time he thought of his brother's blue eyes looking into his, and he thought maybe that had something to do with it.

…

Ludwig realized, around the time that half the food on their plates was gone, that Angie must be trying to impress him. That was standard, wasn't it? Girls trying to impress guys. Vice versa, too, but Ludwig was too caught up in his own head, too busy trying not to look as guilty as he felt, too busy trying not to stare at Angie's cleavage (it's not like he was some animal, it's just that it was so—prominent), too busy wondering what every person in the restaurant thought about incest, to try to impress anyone.

He vaguely wondered why Angie thought she needed to impress him (because surely she was, no matter how casual she tried to make her voice, no matter how self-deprecating her humor). Was she trying to convince him that she wasn't just some slut, that she was worth more attention than a barroom fuck? He found that ironic, because certainly then he should be the one doing the convincing: _I may have practically demanded to stick it in your butt on a first-time fuck, but really, I don't only think with the other head!_ Or, if she knew the whole truth: _I may be fucking my brother, but really, give me a chance, I can be a nice heterosexual boyfriend too!_

The whole thing was too fucked up.

And perhaps worst of all, was that some part of him did sort of like Angie. She had all the pluck, self-assurance, and outright courage that Ludwig lacked. The courage to look him in the face, to ask him out, to guide and keep afloat their conversation throughout this dinner. The most talking he'd done was when he'd explained what he'd met with Professor Kirkland about, and what he was thinking of writing his term paper on. She'd listened with genuine interest and provided a few insightful comments of her own.

Ludwig realized then, that as much as he'd like to let himself fester in his own contempt for the situation, for all the accompanying expectations, for himself, and for Angie and her low-cut shirt and easy smile, he couldn't. After all, how could he hold her in contempt for their bathroom hookup without being even more of a hypocrite than he already was? How could he hold her in contempt for having the bravery to try to make tonight work, even if it involved putting on a false front to disguise all the awkwardness and uncertainty? And she was smart. He realized they'd been talking about _Don Quixote _for ten minutes, and for the first time that night he didn't feel embarrassed. Maybe he was a nerd, but at least he wasn't the only nerd in the room. Maybe, just maybe, this was someone he could actually talk to. She seemed like she would listen.

And so, once they'd paid and put on their coats and walked a couple blocks towards campus under the shelter of their umbrellas, discussing their favorite films, when Angie asked if he wanted to come to her room to watch _The Apartment_ on her laptop, he said yes, more confused than ever about what was really going on between them.

…

Throughout the film, Ludwig was hyper-aware of the way Angie's leg pressed casually against his as they sat side by side on her bed. It would almost be impractical to avoid contact, though, squeezed onto the narrow double and both trying to get at a good angle to see the small laptop screen. But she seemed so casual, so nonchalant and even natural doing it, pressing her thigh lightly against his knee, that eventually Ludwig relaxed into the position. There was something almost comforting, anchoring about that touch, as if it was to say, "we don't have to be afraid of each other."

And as the screen cast its pale glow over their faces, throwing elongated, shifting shadows against the walls in Angie's darkened room, Ludwig allowed himself to think, just for a moment, that maybe they wasn't so different from any other couple curled up in a warm bed enjoying a movie together.

The credits had just started to roll when Ludwig felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw a text from Feliciano:

_Hey u coming to the party? They have lots of booze! :D_

Angie raised her eyebrows at his phone in question. "What's that?"

"Oh, just my roommate, sorry. Just a moment."

He was about to text back "what party?" when he remembered Feliciano had mentioned that Herakles knew about a party at so-and-so's place, and had asked Ludwig if he'd be interesting in going, with a hopeful note in his voice.

He thought for a moment. He knew that now was probably the moment that would decide where he and Angie really stood. She had a single, and he knew what that meant—did he leave now, or would Angie ask him to stay, spend the night? A critical moment.

If he stayed, then he wouldn't be joining Feliciano. But even if he left now, he wasn't sure he felt like getting dragged into a drunken shit-show. He didn't think he even knew who was hosting the party. And he had to be good for tomorrow.

God, tomorrow. Tomorrow Gilbert was insisting he come bowling with him and Matthew and Alfred. He had mentioned something about "brotherly bonding," at which Ludwig had merely snorted, though the whole idea made him feel more nervous than anything. Still, if he had a chance to prove to Gilbert that this could work out, that he could still be his brother, that he could accept and be friendly with Matt, then he would take it. After all, who knew how long Gilbert and Matthew might be together, and if Ludwig couldn't handle being around his brother's boyfriend, it would just make life more difficult for Gilbert. And that was the last thing he wanted.

Ludwig sighed and tapped out a quick response:

_Sorry, at Angie's, can't make it tonight._

He tucked his phone back into his pocket.

"So," Angie started, glancing at him with a shy smile, "good movie, huh? I love Shirley Maclaine."

"Yes, I liked it," Ludwig answered quickly, because he did, but couldn't think of anything else to add.

There was a momentary awkward pause, in which Ludwig did everything within his power to appear casual and at ease, leaning back on his hands.

Angie glanced at him. "Do you… need to get back, to your place? Or, um, you wanna stay…?"

He met her gaze for a brief moment before looking back down at the duvet. "Oh, uh, no, I don't have to get back really, um, I can stay. If you want." He glanced back at her.

She smiled a little and the knot in his chest eased just slightly. "Good." A thoughtful look crossed her face. "So… I'll just cut to the chase, I guess." Ludwig noticed she was blushing slightly as she seemed to brace herself. "Um, how do you feel about sex?"

Ludwig blinked, suddenly sure he was blushing harder than Angie. His mind was completely blank, so he was glad when Angie charged ahead, blurting out, "It's just, you know, I thought we should be on the same page, because, um, I can understand if you feel like there's no reason to wait, but, I mean if you want to wait, since we're, kind of dating, now, uh, that's fine too."

It took Ludwig a moment to find his voice. "Uh, well…" He looked at her large brown eyes, staring at him hesitantly. "What do you want?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Me? Uh…" She considered for a moment. "Well… I guess, I don't know… um, I guess I would rather… wait. Just because, you know, if we're really going to give this a try… I mean, I guess, it's just, I don't think things tend to end well when a relationship's just based on sex, you know? And I feel like if we're doing that from the start it might become that, you know?"

Ludwig nodded. It made good sense to him, and perhaps he even felt slightly relieved. "Okay. Sounds good to me."

Angie gave him a warm smile and leaned in. Suddenly Ludwig was all too aware of how in his space she was.

"But, I wouldn't be adverse to kissing," she said with a grin.

Ludwig's face was burning, his pulse loud in his ears, and part of him felt like springing off of the bed, but instead he leaned towards her and met her lips with his own.

It was quite pleasant, kissing Angie, he realized after a few moments of numbness. Her lips were warm and soft and gentle, and she'd brought up a warm, soft, gentle hand to rub at the side of his neck and through his hair. It was like giving in to a massage, letting his muscles unknot, letting himself be lulled further and further into the kiss, floating on its liquid heat, until Angie pulled away, a flush and a smile on her face.

"I like the way you kiss," she said coyly, and something about the bright, happy spark in her eye made Ludwig want to lean in and do it again. It wasn't exactly a lustful feeling, just a desire to make that spark grow and spread, to hear her musical laugh, to feed the slight giddiness in his stomach.

He swallowed. "Really?" he asked, and he was surprised by how breathless his own voice sounded.

Angie laughed, and Ludwig felt the butterflies fluttering more wildly in his stomach. He couldn't help a silly grin spreading over his own features.

"Yeah, I do." Angie gave him another quick peck on the lips—soft, moist—and shuffled off the bed to put her computer away and get her PJs.

Ludwig stripped to his boxers, and he felt that this was some sort of rite of passage, exposing himself like this, a girl changing in front of him, as they got ready to slip into bed together. It felt like something adult, something from movies, a couple simply getting ready for bed.

Of course, he'd done this with Gilbert before, but that was different. That was brothers sharing a bed, and they'd done it many times before it turned into the signifier of a sexual connection.

Angie turned out the lights and they crawled under the covers. Unlike when he was in Gilbert's bed, Ludwig lay closest to the wall, and Angie settled herself against him. She fit nicely into his arms, and he found himself sliding a hand over her soft waist to hold her against him in a spoon position.

"Night," she mumbled, sleepy, content.

"Good night," he said softly against her hair. He had to shift his head a little so it didn't tickle his face too much. But it was soft and smelled spicily, sharply clean, so he didn't mind too much.

It struck Ludwig how very different it felt to hold a girl in his arms from holding his brother. Gilbert was larger, bony, hard, all solid planes pressing against his broad chest, flat stomach, thighs, shins. He always ended up feeling a little more tangled up with his brother's long, lithe limbs when they shared a bed, but Angie seemed to sleep neatly tucked in on herself.

But that was a very neutral thing, he thought as he started to drift off to the steady rise and fall of Angie's side under his arm. Different. Different wasn't better or worse, it was just something else to catalogue away in his mind.

...

A/N: Sorry there's not too much between the brothers this time, but there will be more of that coming up in part 2 of this chapter! I feel like this part is pretty heavy on the contemplative side, but I hope you enjoyed reading nonetheless.

Please leave a review if you feel inclined, I love hearing your thoughts! And thank you so much for your lovely comments last time, they really motivated me to write this one quickly :)

Next part: the brothers go bowling, then Gilbert suggests he and Ludwig try something a little different in bed... plus, a little something many of you have been waiting for!


	5. Chapter 4 pt 2

_Warnings: language, incestuous themes_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia still belongs to Himaruya._

...

Chapter 4, Part 2

The bowling alley smelled like fast food, gasoline, and dirty socks. Ludwig tried not to think about how much foot sweat had permeated the leather of his rented bowling shoes as he laced them snugly up. It took every ounce of his willpower to keep from pulling out the bottle of hand sanitizer he kept on him at all times whenever he touched a surface. They were all inevitably greasy: walls, benches, counters, the lot.

Gilbert noticed his grimace as he rubbed his grimy fingers together. "C'mon princess, it's a bowling alley. It's _supposed_ to be dirty. Now let's go show 'em who's boss."

Ludwig glared half-heartedly at his brother, though part of him was actually happy to know that Gilbert could still tease him. Just like always.

He got up and followed him to lane eight, where Alfred and Matthew sat waiting. It had been decided (unilaterally by Alfred) that they would compete brothers against brothers: Williams-Jones versus Beilschmidts.

"Alright, Mattie and I already entered our team name," announced Alfred proudly. "We're 'the Heroes!'" He pointed up to the screen above their lane, which read PLAYER 1: THE HEROES.

Matt sank down in his seat, muttering something that sounded like "don't look at me."

"And you guys are?" questioned Alfred, though he made it sound more like a challenge.

"'Team Awesome,'" Gilbert shot back with a smirk. Ludwig rolled his eyes.

"We'll see about that," taunted Alfred as he entered the name into the computer.

Gilbert slid into the chair next to his boyfriend. Ludwig was very conscious of, and perhaps just slightly disappointed by the fact that this forced him to sit across the table from Gilbert.

"I'm sorry to say it my sweet Matthew—" Gilbert paused for dramatic effect— "but you are going down," he finished with a grin and a playful poke to his boyfriend's ribs.

Matthew simply slapped his hand away and blushed deeply, though Ludwig had a feeling that had more to do with Gilbert's teasing endearment than his claim of superiority. Ludwig had thought it would be fun to compete alongside his brother, but suddenly he found himself wishing he were in Matt's place. He dropped his eyes to his clasped hands in his lap and told himself he was being ridiculous.

"Okay! I'll go first!" Alfred practically shouted as he easily picked up a 15-pounder from the ball return. He lifted it up and behind his head, stretching his arms as he squinted down the lane in concentration.

He found his position well behind the foul line, lined up his throw, approached and let loose with a powerful swing of his arm.

"C'mon strike baby strike baby c'mon C'MON—YE—_Noo!_" Alfred groaned as the ball left two pins wobbling in its wake. "Oh c'mon, I lined that up perfectly!"

"You always throw too hard," grumbled Matthew. Alfred seemed not to hear as he picked another ball from the return.

He threw again, face screwed into a determined look, and the two pins clattered down.

"YES! SPARE! OH YEAH, WHO'S A HERO!"

Ludwig raised his eyebrows at Alfred's victory dance, which was drawing the unwanted attention of several other patrons—some sour looking high schoolers and a group of beer-bellied middle-aged men.

Gilbert nodded his head. "Not bad. But let me show you how a real pro does it." He swaggered over to pick his ball from the rack and swung it in his hand a few times.

Ludwig watched his brother carefully as he prepared for his throw, walking to the foul line to glance down at the dots that corresponded to the positioning of the pins at the end of the lane.

Ludwig hadn't been bowling with Gilbert for a long while; it really wasn't his favorite pastime. But he remembered this part, Gilbert's careful method, developed over years of occasional bowling outings with his friends in high school and college.

Gilbert couldn't see the pins very well, but he'd learned how to use the dots for reference quite effectively. His motions were precise, confident, as he found his starting position, and Ludwig thought there was something truly beautiful about his brother's quiet concentration. He never thought he would use the word "graceful" to describe the sport of bowling, but that was exactly how Gilbert looked to him as he stepped forward and released all in one fluid motion.

Ludwig was so preoccupied staring at his brother's form, frozen at the point of release like some Greek statue of an athlete, that he forgot to watch the ball rolling down the lane. He heard the telltale clatter, Gilbert's shout of joy, and Alfred's groan, and when he finally tore his eyes from his brother's ecstatic face to glance down the lane, all ten pins had disappeared from sight. His chest swelled with warm, unabashed pride, and even though he was sitting quietly as Gilbert was fist-pumping, he couldn't help thinking he was the one letting a strike in a casual bowling game affect his emotions a bit too much.

"The Dude abides!" exclaimed Gilbert as he sat back down next to his boyfriend, beaming.

Matthew gave him a puzzled look.

"Oh c'mon Mattie, don't tell me you've never seen _The Big Lebowski_."

"Sorry, nope." Matt shrugged as he got up to take a turn for his team.

"Damn, we're gonna have to fix that fast! Great movie."

"What's 'the Dude abides'?" asked Ludwig.

Gilbert glanced at him, then away as he played around with his chair—the type that could rotate side to side, but rather annoyingly not a full 360 degrees. "Oh, just a line—you wouldn't get it, I guess. It has a lot of bowling in it though, so."

He turned his chair back round to the table to watch his boyfriend take his first throw.

"Remember Mattie," Alfred was saying, "we get to count your score twice 'cause of my spare, so make it good!"

Gilbert glanced back at Ludwig, who hadn't taken his eyes off his brother. "You're staring, Lud."

Ludwig's stomach squirmed for just a moment, but he clenched it down and turned nonchalantly to watch Matthew knock down the three pins furthest to the right.

After a few moments he glanced back at Gilbert and met his red eyes looking straight back. He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not the only one," he said quietly.

Gilbert held his gaze for just a moment longer, then got up wordlessly and went to help Matt with his throwing form. Ludwig watched Gilbert's thin white hands closing over Matthew's shoulder and his grip on the ball, and wondered if Gilbert would do the same for him.

Matt left only one pin standing after his second throw, and Ludwig was up. Gilbert clapped his shoulder casually as he picked out his bowling ball.

"C'mon bro, do me proud!"

Ludwig half-smiled and lined up his throw. He only knocked down six with his first try, and Gilbert came over to give him a few tips on his footwork. Ludwig noted that he didn't touch him, like he had Matt.

He took out the rest of the pins with his next throw.

"Yeah! Go Lud! That's my Brüderlein," Gilbert said with a grin and a high five, and immediately Ludwig felt that everything might be alright after all.

But this was going to get exhausting quickly. He really had to stop letting Gilbert's every tiny action have such influence over him. _Stop reading into everything. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, etc._

But it was difficult not to read into things. It was difficult when Gilbert sat with his arm around his boyfriend's shoulder nudging and pinching him teasingly almost every spare moment. Ludwig really had to wonder if his brother was playing it up. And why? For Ludwig's benefit?

It was difficult when Gilbert seemed to hardly look at him, and only speak to him in the most off-hand, strictly bro-ish way. Ludwig didn't catch him staring at him again, and he tried his best to not-stare back. He tried his best to tell himself that this was normal, this was simply entirely normal, this was how brothers acted, and it made sense Gilbert should pay attention to his boyfriend. It made sense to tease and touch his boyfriend more than his brother. And it was okay like that.

Ludwig tried talking to Matt, between their turns, and was almost disappointed to find nothing to contradict his conviction that he was simply a great, lovely person with a self-deprecating sense of humor. The kind of person who would probably be so good for Gilbert. Not a single ill-intentioned bone in his body.

As he watched his brother come up behind Matthew and wrap his arms around his waste in an affectionate gesture, made for no particular reason other than that he felt like it, Ludwig felt truly torn. Like two halves of a picture, or a puzzle, that no matter how he lined them up just wouldn't quite fit together, like they were never meant to be parts of the same whole. Gilbert's happiness made him happy. Gilbert's smile made him smile. And yet he couldn't deny the empty ache, deep below all the layers of well-socialized, selfless warmth and brotherly affection. And he was left not knowing what was true; his happiness for his brother's happiness or the tight pain of knowing it wasn't him who'd caused it.

Gilbert was laughing, and squeezing Matthew, who was blushing but smiling, and Alfred seemed to be grinning along as he turned away to make his throw, and Ludwig sat there like a damp paper towel, ready to tear if he tried to move.

Behind him he could hear voices; young, obnoxiously loud and reckless voices that filled up the space as if it was theirs to own. The teenagers from several lanes down were moving towards the arcade. Their joking all blended in with the background noise of conversation and the electric hum of lights and equipment, until Ludwig very clearly heard the words "so fucking gay" jump out.

They were clearly in reference to Gilbert and Matt, though not exactly directed towards them. Ludwig could tell immediately that they had both heard, because the smiles slipped off their faces, and Gilbert let go of Matthew, the look on his face somewhere between uncomfortable and ticked off.

Ludwig assumed they were going to let it go, though; the group of high schoolers had already passed them, and much as he hated that they'd stolen that smile from Gilbert's face, that made his eyes crinkle up and his mouth open with an unbridled laugh, sometimes it just seemed like a bit too much work to call out every homophobic moron.

But Alfred had other ideas.

"Hey you! Kid!"

All eyes turned to Alfred. Matt, Gilbert, Ludwig, and the high schoolers were all equally surprised and wary of the bowling ball Alfred still held in throw-ready position.

"You talkin' to me? I'm not a kid," sneered the guy who seemed to be the leader of the group.

"Yeah, I'm talking to you, you kid. You said something I don't like."

The teen snorted and started to turn away.

"Hey, I'm not done, you little punk!"

The guy turned back to look at Alfred, and the combination of surprise and annoyance on his face was almost comical. Clearly he wasn't used to being addressed in such a way.

"I believe you called my brother and his boyfriend 'fucking gay.' Now evidently they are in a homosexual relationship, but there's nothing wrong with that, and 'gay' is not an insult. So why don't you grow up a little and keep that in mind for next time they let you out in public."

The boy's mouth was hanging stupidly open, and he was clearly trying and failing to think of some sort of comeback. Instead his eyes fell on Gilbert. He scoffed. "What's up with you, you trying to look like an albino or something?"

Gilbert's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "I am an albino, genius."

Ludwig wished he could somehow capture and forever preserve the satisfied smirk that worked its way across his brother's lips as the teen made a disgruntled face and shuffled off muttering with his friends.

"…Thanks, Al," said Matt, more than a hint of surprise and appreciation in his voice.

"No prob. What are brothers for, huh?" He gave Matthew a playful punch in the shoulder that was probably supposed to be lighter than it looked; Matt grimaced a little and rubbed his shoulder as his brother turned away to finish his turn.

Ludwig watched the interaction with something akin to fascination, like he was observing a foreign culture or even species. That was how brothers interacted. _What are brothers for?_ A teasing punch in the shoulder. Gilbert had given him countless of those in the past.

And yet… he couldn't relate. He could hardly have felt more disconnected from what should have seemed so familiar. The _brotherliness _of it. He didn't know what that meant anymore.

"Earth to Lud?"

Ludwig's head shot up and he saw his brother, examining him with a skeptical expression. Ludwig realized he must have been staring a bit too hard at the Williams-Jones brothers.

"What?" he asked defensively. Then, as an afterthought, added, "You okay?" feeling slightly guilty that he hadn't been the one to stand up for his brother.

Gilbert sighed and rolled his eyes almost imperceptibly. "Yeah, fine. Nothing."

They heard the clatter of pins and Alfred's groan. He'd left three standing. Gilbert went off to take his turn.

When Gilbert had finished, leaving two pins standing this time, Alfred hefted a ball from the rack and turned to Matthew.

"Here bro, try the 14-pounder, you can handle more than 12!" With that he tossed the bowling ball over a few feet to where Matthew was standing.

He caught it against his stomach with a surprised "Oomff!" and doubled over, winded. A moment later he'd found his breath, though, and was weakly telling his brother off, "You're not supposed to _throw_ these things, Al!"

Alfred just laughed it off. Gilbert was at his boyfriend's side immediately, though, making sure he was okay. The sympathetic look he gave him did not escape Ludwig's notice, and he suddenly wondered what Gilbert thought of Al and Matt's relationship. Did he think Alfred, despite his sometimes careless treatment of Matthew, was a better brother than Ludwig? Was he jealous of Matt and his relationship with his brother? Maybe a too careless relationship was better than a too caring one, if Ludwig and Gilbert's relationship could even be called that.

Ludwig knew he was moping, and he knew Gilbert could probably tell. He didn't want the others to catch on, and he didn't want to dampen the generally light and carefree mood. But he couldn't help it, watching Gilbert with Matthew, and Matthew with Alfred, and feeling so very distant from it all, so very out of place.

He wasn't a boyfriend. And he could hardly call himself a brother.

Maybe he just needed a moment to collect himself. He would just go to the bathroom, and pull himself together. He needed to, if he wanted to convince his brother he could accept Matthew as his boyfriend, that he could interact with them normally and not ruin everything.

He excused himself after his next turn and went into the men's room on the other side of the alley. He splashed his face off, taking deep breaths and telling himself _everything is fine, everything is fine, just relax and enjoy yourself, this is normal, this is just fine._

Ludwig decided he might as well relieve himself while he was there, and went to stand at one of the urinals. He heard the door to the restroom swing open behind him, and someone came to use the urinal next to him.

He felt slightly uncomfortable, as he always did when someone broke the unspoken urinal rule—don't pee directly next to someone else if there are multiple urinals open. He gave a sidelong glance at his neighbor and immediately did a double-take, realizing that it was none other than Gilbert. An entirely different sort of nervousness filled his stomach even as his original discomfort subsided.

Gilbert glanced over at him and smirked. "Man, I gotta pee like a racehorse."

Ludwig snorted. "Thanks for sharing." He finished, shook himself off, did up his pants, and went to the sink, keeping a surreptitious eye on his brother in the mirror.

He washed his hands, noting that from the sound of it, Gilbert had hardly been exaggerating with his racehorse comment. He grabbed a few paper towels, and Gilbert, apparently finished with his business, came over to clap his brother on the shoulders.

"Don't tell me you still wash your hands after peeing. Clean freak."

"It's sanitary," Ludwig defended.

"My dick is plenty sanitary enough, thanks."

Ludwig rolled his eyes and started to turn for the door, until Gilbert added, "You should know."

Ludwig glanced back at his brother, face heating and heart racing. Had he heard that right? But Gilbert's face was unreadable.

Ludwig didn't know how to react. It was stupid, really, to get so flustered at such an insignificant comment. But he had thought they weren't supposed to mention that, not in the open, not in a public place, even if they were alone in the bathroom. Just when he'd thought he might be able to get a grip on himself, Gilbert had to go and throw everything off balance again.

Gilbert watched his little brother's cheeks redden. He could almost see Ludwig's mind racing as his blue, blue eyes flicked back and forth between Gilberts', left, right, left.

He felt cruel. He felt perverted, doing that to his brother, but the comment had slipped out before he could stop it. He wasn't even entirely sure where it had come from, what had spurred him to say it.

But maybe it was because he knew how Ludwig would react. Knew how he would look at him, slightly lost and floundering. Looking to Gilbert for an answer with wide innocent eyes, just like so many times when they were little. And Gilbert could give any answer he wanted, and Ludwig would go along.

He tried to ignore the implications of that, pushed away the warning voice in his head. He didn't want to be cautious; he wanted Ludwig, Ludwig's unconditional, unquestioning adoration.

Gilbert took a step forward, grabbed his brother's face, and smashed their lips roughly together.

Ludwig's muffled exclamation quickly turned to a low groan as Gilbert's tongue filled his mouth. His hands hung uselessly suspended in midair, too shocked to try to do anything with them. At the same time as his mind was screaming _no no no we're in a bathroom idiot anyone could walk in not here damn you_ his gut was finding the possibility of discovery, the daring of it, disturbingly titillating, and Gilbert's warm lips and wicked tongue soon made his mind too fuzzy to form a coherent protest.

But then Gilbert's mouth was gone, just as suddenly as it had met his, and before Ludwig could shake off the pleasant haze his brother was out the door, wiping a sleeve over his mouth.

Ludwig stood, dumbstruck, blinking at his reflection in the mirror. His limbs and belly were still tingling warmly, and his lips buzzed with the sensation, the taste of _Gilbert_.

He took a deep breath, and then another, because he didn't quite trust his lungs to be functioning properly yet. He wasn't sure if he should be happy his brother had kissed him, or angry at his stupid recklessness. He decided the latter part didn't matter, or at least not at the moment; if he wanted to call Gilbert out on it he could do so later. Right now he had to go join back in with others and try his best not to act like he was on another planet. But it was with a satisfied, secretive warmth in the pit of his stomach that he made his way back to lane eight.

He leaned against the table, carefully avoiding Matt's and Alfred's eyes. Their attention happily wasn't on him, anyway; they were watching Gilbert ready his throw.

Gilbert knocked down over half the pins his first throw, and Ludwig wondered vaguely how his brother had enough concentration not to throw a gutter-ball after what had just transpired.

Gilbert picked up his next ball and went back to his starting point, squinting down the lane. He paused for a moment, then called softly, "Hey, Lud," with a casual jerk of his head. No eye-contact.

Ludwig was immediately at his brother's side. "Yes?"

Gilbert jerked his head for him to come closer, still not looking at him. Ludwig leaned in, trying to convince himself the sweat on his palms had nothing to do with anything but the building's over-active heating unit.

"Which pins are still up? I can't tell if that's the… four? Or the eight?" he muttered under his breath.

Ludwig glanced towards the end of the lane. "You've still got… looks like the two, the four, the seven, and the eight's shifted over some." He spoke quietly, intimately, into his ear, so others wouldn't hear; Ludwig knew Gilbert didn't like when other people could tell he was having difficulty with something due to his poor vision. He took it as a point of pride that his brother trusted him enough to occasionally concede that he needed help, and that he'd asked him rather than his boyfriend.

He felt privileged, sharing this small secret between them. And just to see what his brother would do, Ludwig rested his hand lightly against the small of his back as he finished speaking. He wondered if the others noticed, if they thought it at all strange. But why should it be strange for him to touch his brother? If his hand were a few inches lower, then perhaps that would be strange. But this—this was innocent, just a light touch, a gesture of support, of fondness.

Gilbert didn't pull away. He merely kept his eyes on the pins, trying to discern their distant outlines. He nodded slowly. "'Kay, thanks."

"Sure." Ludwig let his hand drop and backed off a few paces to watch Gilbert make his last throw.

The remaining pins clattered out of sight.

"Alright! Spare! Lud, you're the last throw for Team Awesome—make it count!" Gilbert slapped his shoulder, and the brotherliness of it almost convinced Ludwig that he had imagined the entire episode in the bathroom. He managed a weak grin.

Matthew was up next to finish for The Heroes, and managed to knock out nine.

"Ok, Lud, they're up by 15—your first throw's double so make it good!"

Ludwig sighed. His brother had always been so competitive. Yet, he had to admit, he really didn't want to let Gilbert down. He felt what he remembered feeling so many times as a child, playing with his older brother, whether it was kickball, rough housing, legos, or computer games; a burning desire to appear competent, worthy of praise, in the eyes of his brother.

He hefted a ball into his hand and found his mark.

"Yeah, no pressure Lud!" called Alfred.

"Al, be nice," reprimanded Matthew.

"Just kidding, just kidding."

"You can do it," assured Gilbert, right behind him. "Just try not to throw another gutterball."

Ludwig let out a huff of air. "Gilbert, you're not helping." It was true he'd thrown two gutterballs that game; he'd also gotten a spare once, but that was just dumb luck. Bowling really wasn't his sport.

He took a deep breath, got into ready position, wound up his throw, and released.

His eyes tracked the ball as it rolled down the center of the lane, started to curve right, right, right, too damn far right—and hit two pins down.

Ludwig sighed and went to the ball return.

"Not bad, not bad," Gilbert said, but Ludwig could hear the wince in his voice. "Just, do a little better this time. Remember what I told you about your feet."

Ludwig resumed his position with a new ball in hand. He eyed the eight remaining pins. He needed to throw a spare to have any chance of winning now. Last time he'd managed to do that, there had only been four pins remaining for his second throw.

He lifted the ball in front of him, lining it up with where he wanted it to strike, breathed out, and began to move. He remembered at the last moment to follow Gilbert's advice—_cross with your back foot_—and let loose.

The ball sped down the center of the lane, curving left just at the very end to plough into the sweet spot, sending pins spinning and clattering in every direction. He heard Gilbert's exclamation of excitement, and was sure he had it, until he noticed one of the pins wasn't quite down.

He held his breath as he watched it spin, round and round on its edges, slowing down now, slower, almost suspended in midair, right on its center of balance—and then toppled over, rolling out of sight.

"YES! Lud, you did it!"

He felt Gilbert's arm around his shoulders and a genuine warmth swelled through his belly and chest. He was smiling.

"Okay, you get one more throw since it was a spare—you just need to hit three to tie, four to win!"

Ludwig was glowing as his brother gave him a hearty pat on the back and handed him another ball. He felt confident this time, lining up his throw, stepping forward with ease, crossing with his back foot, releasing with just the right twist of the wrist—and seven pins clattered down.

"WHOO! YEAH! TEAM AWESOME FOR THE WIN!" Gilbert was hollering, practically jumping on Ludwig from behind and trying to give him a noogie, from which Ludwig skillfully twisted away, opting for a one-armed hug instead. He thought Gilbert might be overreacting slightly, but he found himself laughing along anyway.

Gilbert squeezed him hard and held up a hand for a high-five. "Who has the best little brother?" Ludwig returned the high-five with a smile.

"Oh, I dunno about that, Mattie here's not so bad!" Alfred grinned and clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder.

Matt rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he said, "I hardly count as your little brother. You were only born 12 seconds ahead of me."

"Yup. And I'm never gonna let you forget it."

Matthew snorted and shoved his brother playfully as Al cackled in good humor.

"Say, I'm starvin'. How 'bout we get something to eat?" Alfred managed when he'd caught his breath.

They headed over to the small eating area, and Ludwig tried not to grin himself silly at the fact that Gilbert kept his hand on his shoulder. In that moment, he was sure everything could really be alright. If Gilbert could still call him the best little brother, hug him and high-five him, if they could still laugh together and triumph together. It was so uncomplicated, just like normal brothers. He didn't even mind when Gilbert released him to sit next to Matthew at the little greasy table they chose.

They all ordered pizza slices, which seemed the most edible thing there, except Alfred, who got two burgers.

Matthew eyed his brother's choice of food skeptically.

"Don't underestimate the bowling alley burger," shot Alfred, seeing Matt's expression. "The greasier, the better."

Matthew made a face. "Whatever."

Alfred happily chowed down, while Ludwig tried to discreetly pat some of the grease off his pizza with a napkin. Gilbert snorted at him, but didn't comment.

Ludwig was happy to see his brother digging into his slice, though—he still thought Gilbert looked thinner than he had before his stint in the hospital.

As if on cue, he noticed his brother's metallic medical bracelet catch the light, glaring at him. He wondered suddenly how often Gilbert remembered he was wearing it, how much he must hate it. How often he wondered how his body was conspiring against him, how long he would live.

Suddenly Ludwig didn't feel so hungry anymore. Maybe he could understand, reluctantly, why his brother refused to eat sometimes.

Between bites of burger, Alfred was enthusiastically explaining something he'd learned about carbon emissions in his environmental sustainability class—Ludwig had missed how they'd gotten onto that topic—when he felt something press lightly against his foot. Ludwig glanced up, wondering if someone thought his foot was part of the table, and decided to pull his foot away before it got too awkward.

But a moment later he felt it again. His face heated. It could only be Gilbert—he was sitting directly across from him. And then, sure enough, his brother glanced over at him, the corners of his lips rising imperceptibly, knowingly.

A shiver ran down Ludwig's spine.

He found suddenly that there was too much saliva in his mouth, and swallowed as the foot—Gilbert's foot—inched its way upward to rub along his calf.

Ludwig's mind was reeling once more. What was going on with Gilbert today? One minute innocently bro-ish, the next covertly seductive. It made Ludwig's insides writhe with want, and the foot working its way up to the sensitive back of his knee was like a brand, shooting fire through his every tender nerve—

Ludwig couldn't take it. He turned aside, tugging away his leg, and covered his hasty motion with a faked cough. Matthew and Alfred didn't even spare him a glance. But Gilbert's eyes lingered on him in an unreadable expression as he turned back to the table to attempt another bite at his pizza.

Gilbert didn't try anything after that, and while Ludwig was relieved, he also missed the feel of some part of Gilbert's body pressed to his. He wished he could just lean over and touch his brother…

"Hey, are you gonna finish that?"

Ludwig looked up and blinked at Alfred, who was eyeing the half-eaten pizza on his plate.

"Oh, uh… no."

"Sweet, don't mind if I help you out then." It wasn't a question; Alfred reached over and grabbed the slice, biting in with relish.

"Al, you've had two burgers already," admonished Matthew.

"So?" questioned Alfred through a mouthful of pizza.

"So you're gonna get fat if you keep eating like this."

Alfred laughed at that. "No way dude, I've got the metabolic rate of a—I dunno, something with a really fast metabolic rate."

Matt rolled his eyes. "That's not what the love-handles indicate…" he muttered.

Alfred didn't laugh at that. Instead he glared at his brother. "I so do not have love-handles." He shoved another bite of pizza into his mouth defiantly.

Ludwig kept watching his brother covertly through the rest of their meal, trying to get any hint at what he was thinking. The kiss, the foot—was it all just playful teasing, or did Gilbert want something? But his brother's attention seemed reserved solely for Matt.

When they finally finished up and returned their rented shoes, it was clear Matthew would be accompanying Gilbert home.

But still, it was only afternoon. Maybe Ludwig would see Gilbert later. Or tomorrow, if nothing else. He suppressed a sigh.

Gilbert gave him a quick hug and high-five goodbye, congratulating him once more on a game well played.

Matthew and Gilbert headed off towards Gilbert's house, while Alfred and Ludwig went in the direction of campus and Al's apartment.

Alfred caught Ludwig looking back at the pair; Gilbert was walking with his arm around Matt's shoulders.

"Heh, they make a good couple, huh?" said Alfred with a grin.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, yes! They do."

"I can tell you Mattie thinks your brother's the best thing since sliced bread. It's kinda adorable actually."

Ludwig swallowed. "Really?"

"Haha, yeah! Doesn't Gil ever talk to you about his boyfriends?"

"Uh, oh, yeah, I mean, he does. Yeah, he seemed pretty head over heels too," Ludwig added hastily. And Gilbert had; Ludwig remembered when he'd had his first dates with Matt, how happy and excited he'd been.

He clamped down on the slightly nauseous feeling in his stomach.

Alfred smiled. After a minute more he spoke up, "Must be nice being so close to your brother."

Ludwig blinked, alarmed. "What do you mean?" he asked, maybe a little too quickly.

"Oh, just, you guys seem to—I dunno, get along so well. You have this like, great sibling chemistry or something. Me and Matt—I dunno, we fight so much, it's like…" He shrugged. "I mean, people think twins are supposed to be close, but, we're so different."

It was true Ludwig usually had a hard time remembering the brothers were twins. "Well… Gilbert and I are pretty different, too."

"Yeah, but… he's not on your back all the time. Mattie—like the way he calls me fat. I'm not fat," Al said defensively, and Ludwig thought he caught a note of genuine hurt in his voice. "I just like to eat, haha!" Alfred tried to cover it with a laugh.

Ludwig felt he was unexpectedly discovering something about Alfred, a boy he didn't know very well, and he wanted to prove himself a decent guy—Gilbert's nice little brother. But he would be lying if he said some small part of him didn't feel smugly satisfied that Matthew and Alfred's brotherly relationship wasn't exactly ideal.

Not that he didn't want them to be happy—it was no full-blown Schadenfreude. Maybe he just… felt good to have confirmation that everyone was human, that no relationship was perfect. Yes, that was it.

Ludwig hesitated, then said, "I don't know, you seemed to get along pretty well to me. It's not as if Gilbert and I don't have our problems sometimes."

Alfred laughed again. "Yeah, no you're right, of course. I mean, he's my brother, I love him. I just like to complain I guess!"

They reached the corner where their paths diverged and waved goodbye, and Ludwig made his way to his dorm, thinking about brothers, and kisses in bathrooms and playing footsie in public.

...

Matthew glanced around. "Gil, maybe…"

Gilbert looked at his boyfriend. "What?"

"Well, just…" He slipped away from Gilbert's arm slung around his shoulders. "Maybe we should… be more careful."

Gilbert blinked at him. "What do you mean?"

"You know… I mean, first the cupcakes, then today… It's always when you're—I don't know, doing something. It just, calls attention."

Gilbert's worked his jaw before saying, tautly, "What do you mean, I'm not allowed to show my boyfriend some affection when I feel like it? It's a free country."

Matthew sighed. "I know, Gilbert, but I'm just being practical—"

"No, I'm not caving to a couple homophobic douchebags. If a couple rude comments are what it takes to be able to hug you, or hold your hand, or kiss you in public, like any freakin' couple, then I'll take it."

Matthew looked into his boyfriend's fiery eyes, then away. He sighed. "I'm just… I'm not comfortable with it, Gilbert. I… get scared sometimes."

The corner of Gilbert's lips quirked upward. "Aw c'mon Mattie, you got me. Nothing to be scared of."

Matthew huffed. "I'm scared for you too, you idiot."

That brought Gilbert up short.

"You can be so… reckless sometimes." Matthew bit his lip.

_No. Fuck—just no._ It wasn't supposed to be like this. Matt was supposed to be safe, uncomplicated. He was supposed to be the one he didn't have to keep secret, the one he could laugh with and kiss and do anything he wanted with in public, the one he didn't have to worry about people finding out about.

It was strange—people might think incest would be the 'safe route,' the cop-out from dealing with messy relationship feelings with new people, that it might be kind of boring to fuck a family member, and that falling in love with someone not related to you was the big unknown, the romantic adventure.

But it didn't exactly work out that way. Matthew was safety, Matthew was comfort, Matthew was normality and the warmth of certainty. Matthew was who he wanted to curl up into to forget the complications of life, wrap in his arms and smell his strawberry hair and lavender pajamas and feel that everything was _right_.

Ludwig was terrifying. Ludwig was thrilling and electrifying and filled him with sensations he didn't want to name. Ludwig was magnetic, and shiny and blindingly brilliant and Gilbert was the moth drawn to the flame. And he could feel the insinuating tendrils of addiction to that burn lapping at the edges of his mind.

Ludwig was a mystery, too, the boy he knew better than anyone. He was, already, the furtive nighttime meetings that made Gilbert giddy with adrenaline, the sordidly romantic—or sensual—adventure, the gut-lurching plunge in the dark.

And now Matthew wanted to throw that off. But Gilbert couldn't deal with two socially inacceptable relationships at the same time. If he had to keep a secret as big as Ludwig, there was no room for a secret Matthew. Hell, he was even out to his father now. There was no way he was hiding Matthew in this town, on this campus, where he lived. Hiding meant guilt, and Gilbert had plenty of that to go around as it was.

"I'm not saying we have to keep it secret or anything!" assured Matt, as if reading (partly) his boyfriend's thoughts. "I just mean, maybe save the more affectionate gestures for private moments. You know? I mean plenty of straight couples aren't super-into PDA either."

Gilbert took a deep breath. "I just do what I feel like doing. I'm not ashamed to put my arm around you in public, and I'm not going to make myself hold back if I want to do something like that. I have the right to that much. We can't let them scare us out of that."

Matthew sighed. "I—" He sighed again. "Okay, fine. For now."

Gilbert nodded. "Good." He turned and they continued walking.

"Well, thanks for agreeing to do this, anyway."

"Do what?"

"You know, bowling. The whole brother-outing thing. It was nice to have Ludwig along. I think maybe it sets a good example for Al, makes him a bit easier to handle."

Gilbert had to bit back a nervous laugh. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, just, he was actually alright today. I mean, better than usual. I think maybe he saw how you two interact and knew he had to… I don't know, treat me better than usual, I guess, in front of you."

Gilbert wasn't sure how to respond to that. The fact that Matt felt his brother didn't treat him well was painful, but the fact that he saw Gilbert and Ludwig as role models of brotherly harmony was perhaps worse.

"Oh c'mon, your brother cares about you! Look how he took on those high school dickheads. He wouldn't do that just for show, I'm sure."

"I know, I know he cares about me, but I just… We've always been so different, I feel like—what reason does he have to even like me? I mean, he must think I'm so boring. He doesn't—you know what it is; he doesn't respect me. He never takes me seriously. Ludwig respects you. You're lucky."

Gilbert swallowed. "Nah, I'm sure he respects you. And I'm sure he likes you. Maybe he's just not so good at showing it. And you're not boring."

Matt ignored him. "I mean, you and Ludwig are different, too, though, but you're so close. I don't know how you do it."

"What do you mean?" _So close? _What did that mean?

"You know, like you were telling me before—if he needs you, you're there. You support each other, you share stuff. Sheesh, you should see the way he looks at you—like, you're his hero. Or like he adores you. It's kind of sweet."

Gilbert was sure he must be sweating. His stomach felt tight. "Really? Huh. Well, we just…" _Just what?_ "I mean, we are close. But it's not like we're perfect." Then he added, "I think you and Al have it better than you think." _Because you don't even know what torture it is to look at your brother and _want_ him, want to feel his strong arms and hard chest and God so soft lips, see him need you, need you more than brothers should ever need each other; love him so much you think your chest will burst._

Matthew gave a wistful half-smile. "Yeah, I guess you're probably right."

...

A/N: There is going to be a part three to this chapter, because it got so damn long. I definitely did not intend for this part to take so long to write either! Hopefully the next part will be up much quicker, if I can get around to it before going into full prep-mode for German presentation on 17th century Prussian administration... o_O

Meaning, the "thing many of you have been waiting for," as well as the bros trying something new in bed, will all be in the next part. Sorry! I hope you enjoyed the bowling though! (I have also enjoyed reading your guesses about what that will be~) Thanks for all the truly wonderful reviews last time and so many interesting thoughts and theories! I hope I can get around to answering some soon. They make my day.

A little explanation, in case any of you have never engaged in the wonderful sport of bowling:

"strike"-knocking out all 10 pins in one throw.

"spare"-knocking out all 10 pins in two throws.

"gutterball"-throwing the ball so it rolls into one of the gutters on either side of the lane, resulting in no pins being hit.

I definitely never realized how complicated bowling scoring was, either-I hope I didn't mess it up, in case any of you out there are true bowling aficionados! ;) (Oh, and do make sure to go watch "The Big Lebowski" if you haven't-it is one hilarious movie, dude.)


	6. Chapter 4 pt 3

_Warnings: language, explicit content (boyxboy), incest_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Himaruya._

...

Chapter 4, Part 3

It was a little after seven when Ludwig's phone vibrated. A text from Gilbert:

_Hey Matt's gone if you want to come over_

Ludwig read it twice, quickly, before tapping out his reply:

_Yeah, be right there._

So maybe Gilbert did want something. Did want _him_. Was that possible? Did his brother want him as much as he wanted his brother? The idea of Gilbert, wanting _him_, was intoxicating.

Ludwig was grateful Feliciano had gone out for the evening, so he didn't have to give him an explanation; he threw on his jacket and slipped on his boots, and was out the door.

…

Gilbert opened the fridge and grabbed out his carton of milk. It was past the expiration date, but it didn't smell too off, so he poured himself a glass.

He was thinking of Ludwig.

Thinking of his lips in the bathroom, his legs under the table… He sighed, leaning on the refrigerator door. What was he doing?

It was crazy, acting like that. And yet—it had been so, thrilling. And surely Ludwig would be pleased, wouldn't he? Pleased that Gilbert was reciprocating, initiating.

Because, after all, he was doing this for Ludwig. He was only doing what his brother needed him to do.

And then, they had still been able to continue with the game, cheer each other on, act _brotherly_. Maybe it was possible, then, to find some—balance. That was it. These sexual acts, they didn't have to take them so far outside of the realm of brotherliness. They didn't really have to even change them, him and Ludwig—didn't have to change the way they were brothers. Maybe sex could just be… another thing that they did. Something just between the two of them, like so many other inside jokes and secret understandings only siblings could share.

He heard the door open. "Lud, that you?"

"Yeah," came his brother's deep voice. Damn, how did his little brother get the manly voice?

He heard Ludwig's footsteps coming down the hall and turning into the kitchen and looked up. He raised his glass. "Milk?"

"Uh, I'm good thanks," said Ludwig, leaning a bit awkwardly on the counter.

"You sure? Makes ya grow big and strong! And damn is it refreshing." Gilbert took a big gulp and let out a sigh of satisfaction for effect.

"Yes, I'm… sure. Thanks."

Gilbert shrugged and continued to drink, glancing sideways at his brother, who raised his eyebrows expectantly.

It was silent save Gilbert's gulping for a few long seconds. When he was finally finished he set his glass down on the counter with a decisive _clink_.

"So, how was your date with Angie?"

Ludwig blinked; that wasn't what he'd been expecting. Come to think of it, he ought to call Angie tonight. His girlfriend.

"Uh, it was fine. Yeah, good."

"Yeah? Good. How did you guys meet again?"

"In Kirkland's Lit class."

"Oh, right."

"Actually, I met with Professor Kirkland yesterday too."

"…Oh? What for?"

"To talk about the English major, paper topics and stuff."

"Where did you meet?"

"Um, in a café… why?"

Gilbert grunted. "Nothing."

"He mentioned you, actually."

Gilbert looked up sharply at that. "Mentioned me?"

"Yeah, said to say hi to you for him. And that you should stop by some time." Ludwig decided not to mention that they'd discussed Gilbert as Kirkland's student—apparently the subject was rather touchy, though Ludwig couldn't quite fathom why.

Gilbert blinked at him. "Stop by?"

"Yes, well, I think he said 'if he feels like dropping by my door is open.' Or something."

Gilbert's eyebrows rose. "His door is open?"

"Yes…"

Gilbert gave a harsh bark of laughter. "Oh, that's nice."

Ludwig furrowed his brow. "Gilbert, what's wrong with that, he's just trying to be nice, after you..."

"…After I what?" Gilbert challenged.

Ludwig swallowed. He hadn't meant to let on that he knew anything about his conflict with his former teacher. "Well, just, so maybe you had your differences, but that's no reason to cut off a teacher who clearly admired your work—"

"Had our _differences? _Admired my _work? _Ludwig, you don't know anything about it, okay?"

Gilbert had approached quite close to Ludwig. The younger brother swallowed. "I—I… Okay," he said simply. He couldn't understand Gilbert's stubbornness on the topic, but he didn't want to push it.

Gilbert's arm snaked around his shoulders. "Good. Now…"

Ludwig's heart started beating wildly in his chest. "Uhhh Gilbert—"

He had decided he wanted to impress upon his brother that he couldn't just go doing things in pubic like he had today, and wanted to make sure he did so before getting too distracted with… other things.

"Y-you know—"

But Gilbert was already leaning his head in, brushing his lips along the racing pulse in Ludwig's neck.

Ludwig shivered and tried again. "Um, Gilbert you really shouldn't—wait." He pushed his brother's shoulder back. "Are you even sure we're alone?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Positive Lud." He smirked. "Don't worry, everything's under control."

He brought his body flush with his brother's, front to front, and let his hands wander up his shoulders to his neck.

Ludwig's skin was hot and prickling, his breathing shallow, and there was the relentless tug of want low in his gut. He wet his lips. "What's—what's with you today?"

"Hm?" Gilbert was nuzzling his jaw now, breath hot against his throat.

Ludwig stood there dumbly, clutching the counter behind him for support as the edge dug into the small of his back. He struggled to collect his thoughts. "You know, the—uh, bowling alley, and…" He couldn't finish as Gilbert's mouth made it's way to his ear and started sucking on the shell.

He groaned lowly at the maddening sensation. "Gilbert…" Then he remembered what he was trying to say. "Anyone—anyone could have seen!"

Gilbert chuckled throatily, and the sound went straight to Ludwig's groin. "Oh c'mon, I was just having a little fun," he murmured.

And then his mouth slid wetly to Ludwig's, and Ludwig's stomach flipped. He sucked in his brother's lips, tongue, eagerly as Gilbert's hands pressed into his arms, back, sliding to his shoulders and hips and they where everywhere and overwhelming and too much and not enough at once.

Ludwig quickly forgot his complaint. But as Gilbert's hands became more daring, rubbing him through his jeans and tugging at his belt, and Ludwig was bent practically backwards over the counter—he blushed at the thought of Gilbert taking him then, there—another rose to mind.

"Gilbert—ngh—Someone, someone could come in…" He glanced worriedly toward the hallway. He could almost see the front door, bent like this.

Gilbert sighed and tugged him upright. "Okay, upstairs."

Ludwig's crotch pulsed with the authoritative tone of his brother's voice. He wasn't sure where this change in Gilbert's demeanor had come from, but he wasn't protesting.

They climbed the stairs, Gilbert's hands never leaving Ludwig's body. Ludwig turned to go to Gilbert's bedroom, but his brother pulled him back and pushed him into the den. The backs of Ludwig's legs hit the arm of the couch, and he tumbled backward onto the cushions. Gilbert was right behind, crawling over him and lifting his shirt to kiss sloppily at his stomach, then work his way up to his chest to tease a pert nipple with his teeth.

Ludwig gasped. "Gilbert!" He was still tense about their exposed position, no door between them and the stairway. "Shouldn't we—hah, go to your room?"

Gilbert's wonderful hands smoothed down his sides to settle at his hips. "Relax, bro. Hey, this way we'll know if anyone comes in." He grinned, then sighed at Ludwig's cross expression. "Look, Vash went home for the weekend, and Liz and Rod went out to dinner and a movie. We're alone." He fixed him with an intense gaze that said, _trust me_.

Slowly, Ludwig relaxed, and Gilbert pulled himself over his brother to find his mouth.

Ludwig reveled in the heat and weight of his brother's body against his own as they kissed. He groaned as Gilbert slipped a hand between them and started to palm him through his jeans again. He gripped Gilbert's back and hips, willing him closer, wanting more friction.

Then suddenly Gilbert was down at his crotch, tugging almost frantically at his belt and yanking his pants and boxers down in one go to pull out Ludwig's hardening cock.

Ludwig made a whimpering noise he would never admit to as Gilbert's warm fingers closed firmly around his shaft and began stroking, sending bolts of sweet pleasure to his gut. He squirmed, trying to get his pants off all the way so he could move his legs.

He managed to tug them off with Gilbert's help, and Gilbert went back to work with his mouth, licking long stripes up his brother's member, then pausing to suck his balls, taking each into his mouth in turn as Ludwig moaned and scrabbled to grip his brother's hair.

Ludwig watched as Gilbert took his erection into his mouth, all the way down. His red eyes seemed to burn as he gazed up at him, and Ludwig stared in awe until he felt the back of his brother's throat and his head fell back in a wave of pleasure as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Gilbert pulled off. "No, look at me," he breathed, breath ghosting over the head of Ludwig's cock and making him shiver. Ludwig complied, blushing.

Gilbert took him back in his mouth and began sucking in earnest, head bobbing up and down and tongue teasing at his slit, humming softly at the taste of pre-cum weeping profusely from the tip. He himself was sure there must be a wet spot staining his underwear by now, with his cock straining in the confines of his pants. He was enjoying this much too much.

He loved this view of his brother, mouth helplessly slack, eyes hazy and desperate, a slight frown on that strong brow. He loved the soft, ragged pants that emanated from between his brother's moist, pink lips. He loved the feel of Ludwig's hand, large and warm, cupping the back of his head firmly, but not pushing; Gilbert wished he would apply more pressure, use some of the strength he could just see pulsing through those solid, toned arms.

He could feel Ludwig tensing below him and pulled off, delighting in his brother's stifled groan of disappointment. He didn't want Ludwig to finish just yet. He wanted to keep him on edge as long as possible; delayed gratification was always sweetest.

And Gilbert's own erection badly needed tending to.

"Suck me," he commanded gruffly, kneeling up and fumbling to release his throbbing cock. A wave of adrenaline, thrilling, dangerous, rushed through him as he said it; it was daring, so wrong. But better still was Ludwig's half disbelieving, half transfixed, terribly wide-eyed and innocent looking quick nod in return as he scrambled off the couch to kneel in front of his brother.

Gilbert settled himself down, legs on either side of his brother, so eager, so needy. He could barely breathe as he watched him take hold of his erection and bring his face close, seemingly breathing in the scent and savoring it for a moment, eyes closed, before rubbing his lips over the tip and smearing pre-cum on his mouth.

Gilbert's toes curled and he bit down a moan just at the sight.

It was horrible, it was wonderful. His little brother, sucking him off, with that _look_ in his eyes as he gazed up at him—it was so intense Gilbert had to squeeze his eyes shut as he gnashed his teeth in pleasure. What was it? Adoration didn't seem a strong enough word. It was… _worship._

Gilbert grunted at the low tug in his gut. He was panting now, fisting the edge of the couch and trying everything in his might not to grab his brother's head and slam his hips up into that hot, velvet smooth mouth… _God, to fuck Ludwig's mouth, make him choke on me… He would probably let me too…_

Gilbert groaned loudly, half at the mental image, half to snap himself out of it.

_No, don't go there, still your little brother, don't hurt him god your mouth oh god Ludwig—_

"Ah fuck, Lud, gonna—"

Ludwig chose that moment to wriggle his tongue against his slit, working at the sensitive frenulum, and Gilbert shot over the edge.

"HAHH—JESUS—ooohh Luuud…"

Ludwig's mouth flooded with hot, bitter semen and he struggled to swallow it all down, gasping and coughing.

Gilbert sat boneless and breathless, staring at his disheveled brother, a string of white dribbling from the corner of his mouth as he struggled to get a lungful of air.

"You… you 'kay?" Gilbert asked weakly.

Ludwig nodded and wiped his mouth, looking back at his brother with watery eyes. But they still had _that _expression.

_Oh god I could fuck you so hard, fuck you into this couch and make you scream…_

Gilbert closed his eyes. _Stop. Stop, just, don't._

He felt Ludwig pulling himself up onto the couch next to him, could feel his heat looming close, and then a soft, chaste kiss pressed to his lips.

"Ludwig…" he whispered, bringing a hand up to thread through his brother's silky hair, making more strands fall into his face.

"Mm?" he hummed, and Gilbert could feel the deep vibration through his lips as he traced them along his jaw.

"Want you…" He swallowed. "Want you in me…" he forced out.

Ludwig's lips left his face. Gilbert was afraid to open in eyes, but his brother's silence forced him to.

Ludwig was staring at him, with those too-blue, too-round eyes. He wet his lips and spoke, a low rumble. "Are you… sure?"

Gilbert nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak. He might lose his resolve.

Because in truth, he wanted to fuck his brother badly. A dark little part of him wanted to see Ludwig's face pressed into the faux-leather of the couch, wanted to see just how far he could go, just how long Ludwig would keep looking at him like that, with that look he only seemed to get when he was giving Gilbert pleasure, sucking him off or getting fucked. It wasn't the same look as when Gilbert went down on him—it was still helpless then, still consumed by lust, but it wasn't the same. And Gilbert loved that look, loved seeing it on his brother's face.

But it terrified him. He wasn't sure he wanted to see how far Ludwig would let him go, what he'd let him do to him, because when he saw that look, he wasn't sure Ludwig would ever tell him to stop. And it made him sick, sick with shameful longing.

So maybe, just maybe, it would be better if Ludwig fucked him. He'd still be giving Ludwig what he wanted, what he needed. But maybe it wouldn't feel quite so dangerous, taking the passive role, simply letting Ludwig do what he wanted.

But Gilbert hadn't bottomed for years. Matt was too timid to try to top yet, and he'd usually topped in most of his past relationships. He didn't quite want to admit that it was partially because he had always been nervous about the idea of another guy up his ass. Maybe it was a control thing.

He starting removing his pants before he could take it back.

"Uh—o-okay," stuttered Ludwig, moving to help him.

Ludwig's heart was racing as he first tugged off Gilbert's jeans and socks, then yanked off his own shirt. He couldn't deny this was something he'd fantasized about too, but he'd never dared to think—did Gilbert really want—did his brother really want him to do this? It was almost too good to believe.

But he was nervous, too. The only time he'd "topped," he'd been drunk in a bar bathroom, and with a girl. This was entirely different. Kneeling on the couch, completely naked now, before his equally naked brother in a well-lit, unenclosed room, Ludwig felt much too exposed. Gilbert would be able to see everything… and Ludwig wasn't even sure he knew what to do. How did he make sure he wouldn't hurt his brother?

Gilbert rested a leg on the back of the couch, letting the other hang down to the floor, with Ludwig between.

"Umm…" Ludwig swallowed. "So, are you… clean?" He could feel his face flushing even further.

"Just—yeah, I'm good to go. I uh, made sure earlier." Gilbert averted his eyes. He looked about as comfortable as Ludwig felt.

Ludwig blinked, then realized he didn't want to know what Gilbert had been doing with Matt that would require him to "make sure."

"Uh, okay. So… condom…?"

"Pants pocket."

Ludwig glanced questioningly at his brother.

Gilbert shrugged. "I came prepared," he muttered.

Ludwig fished the condom out of Gilbert's abandoned jeans, disturbingly turned-on by the fact that his brother had stashed a condom in his pocket to have sex with _him_.

"…Want me to grab some lube?"

"Just—hurry up!" Gilbert leaned forward to grasp Ludwig's dick and pump it back to full hardness.

Ludwig rested a hand on his brother's shoulder, squeezing as he felt heat pooling again in his gut.

"Gimme that." Gilbert held his hand out for the condom.

Ludwig handed it to him, and Gilbert ripped open the package with his teeth. He carefully rolled the condom up his brother's shaft, then gave a few more pumps for good measure.

Gilbert leaned back. "Okay," he said, bracing himself.

"Well, you want me to uh, prepare you, don't you?"

"Yes! Just—Christ, I'll do it myself—"

"No, I can do it! Sorry." Ludwig flushed. He was doing a miserable job, humiliating himself in front of his brother—

Gilbert sighed. "No, it's okay. Sorry. I just... yeah, go ahead."

"Uh, right." Ludwig spit into his fingers, rubbing his index and middle together to get them coated and slick.

He reached down to find Gilbert's hole, heart fluttering when he felt the ring of muscles clench at his touch. Oh god, it must be so tight…

He pressed lightly, circling the entrance before letting one finger sink inside the incredibly soft heat, just to the first knuckle.

"Oh c'mon Lud, I'm not made of glass," Gilbert gritted out, but Ludwig could tell from the way that he'd been biting his lip that his brother was nervous. Maybe as nervous as he was.

Ludwig began thrusting his finger gently in and out. He could feel his cock stirring in interest, as though the head down there couldn't help but imagine that tightness gripping around it. He swallowed and added another finger, carefully thrusting and scissoring.

He watched Gilbert's face, looking for signs of pain or reassurance, but Gilbert wasn't looking at him. His eyes were squinting off to the side, while the back of one hand covered his mouth.

Ludwig spit down again, pushing the slippery fluid into and around the hole, trying to make sure it was well-lubricated. "Um, do you think—"

"Yeah, just do it."

Ludwig swallowed and held the base of his cock, lining it up with his brother's entrance. His stomach gave a lurch about what he was about to do—fuck his brother—that was mostly excitement, but perhaps a bit of horror and understanding of any hesitation Gilbert had ever shown about fucking Ludwig.

"Wait!"

Ludwig drew back, startled.

Gilbert shuffled to change positions, turning over onto his elbows and knees. "Like this. Should be easier."

"Okay," Ludwig agreed. He was a little disappointed not to see his brother's face, but if Gilbert would be more comfortable like this, he wouldn't complain.

He grasped Gilbert's hips, and for a moment lost the ability to draw breath at the sight of his brother from behind, spread open and waiting for him. He swallowed and pressed the tip of his cock to his entrance.

Ludwig pushed forward with his hips and watched in wonder as his member slowly disappeared inside his brother.

"Hahh-ahh…" winced Gilbert, digging his fingers into the cushions. "Jeeesus, Lud, why'd'ya have to—nnng—be—so—ffucking big?" he gasped.

The words didn't quite penetrate Ludwig's mind though, overloaded as it was with _tight tight god so tight and hot oh my god oh my god _and suddenly Ludwig wasn't quite sure why he hadn't asked to fuck Gilbert before.

It took every ounce of his concentration and willpower to go slowly, try not to hurt his brother. When he was fully sheathed he shifted a bit, causing Gilbert to wince again, and let himself rest against his brother's back, savoring warm, smooth skin.

"Nn, you—okay?" he grunted out.

"…Yup," Gilbert strained out, but Ludwig could hear the pain in his voice. "Give me a… a sec…"

Ludwig pressed his forehead down between Gilbert's shoulder blades, and wasn't sure if his skin or Gilbert's was burning hotter. He ran his hands down his brother's sides and stomach to grasp his cock, which was dismayingly limp. He started to stroke, hoping it would help Gilbert accommodate his girth. He wanted—he needed—Gilbert to enjoy this, too.

Finally he felt Gilbert let out a long breath and relax just a little.

"M-move…"

Ludwig began to shift his hips back and heard Gilbert hiss through his teeth. He kept stroking Gilbert back to hardness as he thrust in, slowly, so painfully slowly, hot smooth walls clinging around his cock, enveloping him.

He continued like that, gingerly rocking back and forth, insides singing with each hot tug of Gilbert's insides along his shaft. Gilbert was making high-pitched noises in his throat with every thrust, which Ludwig hoped were more from pleasure than pain.

His brother lay his head down on his arms, face to the side, and Ludwig could see tear tracks down Gilbert's cheek.

"Nn—you, sure you're okay?"

Gilbert panted a few times before managing a weak "Yeah," in return.

Eventually Ludwig's movements became easier. Gilbert's cock was stiff again and he seemed more relaxed, mouth hanging lazily open as he frowned slightly.

Ludwig needed more friction badly. This slow thrusting was teasing torture for his erection. He gave his hips and experimental roll, deeper, harder.

Gilbert's face contorted as he groaned.

"You—okay?" panted Ludwig again.

"Ahh—I… Do… do that again…"

Heart racing, Ludwig did it again, and again, milking out Gilbert's musical, breathy moans. His parted lips looked so inviting, so Ludwig ducked down to close his mouth over his brother's, pulling his lips into a sloppy kiss as he continued to rock harder, harder.

Gilbert's hand snaked up behind him to clutch at his hair, fingers practically digging into his scalp. He could feel the vibrations of Gilbert's moans in his mouth, spurring him to snap his hips forward faster.

Gilbert broke away to gasp, head falling forward onto the couch once more. "Ohh, shit… HAHH ooo god Lud, right there, right there oh shit oh shit…" His voice raised in pitch as he mumbled into the cushion, and suddenly Gilbert didn't know what he was saying any more as words came spilling from his mouth.

"Ah, yes, yes, fuck, fuck me—" His hand reached back to grip Ludwig's thigh, trying to pull him closer, deeper.

Ludwig groaned, hands going to Gilbert's hips for better leverage as he increased his pace.

"Fuck! Oh god, oh god yes don't stop god Luuud… fuck me, fuck me hard…" The string of words came like a muttered incantation as Gilbert closed his eyes. "God fuck me, harder, fuck my ass—"

High on lust and pleasure, Gilbert felt bold and daring. He twisted his shoulders so he could reach back and hook one arm around Ludwig's neck, pulling his face towards his.

"You like fucking me, huh?" he whispered heatedly to the humid air between them. "You like fucking your big brother?"

Ludwig brows contracted helplessly as his eyes fell closed.

"You like fucking my tight little ass? Oh fuck, Lud, keep fucking me, keep fucking your big brother in the ass…"

He wasn't filtering any of the words that came in a confused jumble to his mind. Part of him knew how embarrassing what he was saying was, how disgusting, but that only made the thrill of saying it all the better.

Gilbert brought their faces closer still, so their lips were practically touching. His gut was taught with burning pleasure as he gritted through his teeth, "Oh yeah, you like that, huh? You like my ass, little brother, Brüderchen, huh? Fuck me, oh yes fuck me Brüderlein, Brüderchen, _Luddy—_"

It was hearing those names, his name, the names only Gilbert called him, that nearly sent him over the edge. With an animalistic growl Ludwig wrapped his arms around his brother's torso and slammed into him as hard as he could, reducing Gilbert to high pitched gasps as tears streamed down his face.

And almost before he knew it, he was talking too. "You like that? That what you want, big _brother_? You like getting fucked by your little brother, huh? Like my cock up your ass?" he growled into Gilbert's ear. He didn't even know where the words came from; it was almost as if someone else were speaking through him.

Gilbert was practically crying now. "AH! YES, oh god yes I love it," he sobbed out. "I love your big fat cockinmyass oh shit Lud gonnacumgonnacum DON'T STOP—"

"Cum with your little brother's fat cock in your ass—_Gilbert—_"

Gilbert's fingernails dug into his back as he gave a strangled cry, spilling white all over the vinyl cushions.

Ludwig tensed at the feeling of Gilbert's muscles contracting around him, and with a deep groan let loose, shuddering as he continued to drive in and out, riding the blissful waves of his orgasm.

When his muscles finally relaxed he withdrew quickly to snap off the condom and throw it aside. With a sigh he collapsed forward, sprawling over his brother's back.

They lay there for long minutes, breathing deeply. Ludwig couldn't think of anything to say; he was still stunned with afterglow.

Finally he lifted his head to look at his brother, whose eyes were gazing lazily off to the side. "Did you… like it?" he asked hoarsely.

Gilbert gave a huff of laughter. "Yeah, it was good."

Ludwig wanted to believe his brother, but Gilbert wasn't looking at him, and he was worried he would go into one of his guilty post-sex moods. He often seemed distant after they'd done something together.

"You don't… regret it, do you?" he said softly, trailing his fingers through the sweat beading down Gilbert's spine, too afraid to look up.

Gilbert blinked and looked at him. "Regret what?" he asked uneasily.

Ludwig shrugged. "I don't know. All of it."

Gilbert was silent for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak.

And then his phone started ringing.

Gilbert sighed and leaned over to grab his pants from the floor. Ludwig sat up to give him some room as he fished his cell out of his pocket.

Gilbert looked at the screen and groaned. He propped himself up on an elbow and brought the phone to his ear.

"Hey Dad."

Ludwig's stomach turned. He glanced at his brother guiltily, but Gilbert was just staring at him coolly. Ludwig blushed.

"Oh, no I haven't. …Well I've been a little busy." Gilbert sat up, scooting closer to his brother. He trailed a hand up his shoulder as he listened to the other end of the line.

Ludwig's face heated further at his brother's touch. He couldn't breathe right, sitting here naked with Gilbert while he was on the phone with their father.

"I know, Dad, I'll do it—because I know I have to!" Suddenly Gilbert ducked down to place a kiss beneath Ludwig's jaw.

Scandalized, Ludwig tried to twist away silently, giving his brother a warning look.

"Dad, just trust me, okay?" Gilbert seemed to be studying Ludwig's face as he said this. Then he rolled his eyes—apparently at something their father had said—and pulled Ludwig's head towards his so he could kiss him properly, holding the phone a little away from his ear.

Ludwig had to choke down his noise of alarm and pushed his brother off of him.

"Huh? Wha—no," Gilbert said quickly into the phone, then glared at his brother, disgruntled. "What? I don't know," he said distractedly. "Why don't you ask Ludwig? …No, haven't seen him for a while."

Ludwig had had enough. He tried to stand, but Gilbert tugged him back down by the wrist.

"Uh-huh. 'Kay. Yeah, bye." Gilbert hung up.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Ludwig burst out.

"What?" asked Gilbert defensively.

"That! What the hell was all that about?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes again. "Oh c'mon Lud, he couldn't see us."

"But you can't—it's not—it's a matter of principle!"

Gilbert laughed harshly. "Ludwig, you just fucked me, but now me kissing you while I'm on the phone is a matter of principle?"

"With our father!"

Gilbert smirked. "Yeah, all the better."

Ludwig stared at his brother. "Is that was this is? Is this—Mm. You are—really unbelievable sometimes."

"Why thank you."

"I'm being serious, Gilbert! Is this some fucking game to you? See how much we can get away with without Dad finding out? Is it all just about pulling one over on Dad to you?"

"Oh c'mon Lud." Gilbert sounded ticked off now. "Like I would do this just to get at Dad."

"I don't know, would you?"

Gilbert's sharp gaze met his brother's. Ludwig's eyes felt like ice on him.

Finally Ludwig looked away with a huff. "I'm leaving," he muttered.

"Fine." Gilbert crossed his arms.

Ludwig pulled his boxers and pants back on with angry tugs. "You can be so immature sometimes. It's pathetic, you know that?"

He saw Gilbert's throat and jaw move a little, eyes staring straight ahead. But the heat of Ludwig's anger was too much for him to stop and take it back. Anyways, Gilbert was the one who should be sorry. Sorry for _using_ Ludwig just because he never could get over his massive, infantile grudge against their father. Ludwig was sick of it, and he was hurt. Hurt that Gilbert would be so selfish, disregard Ludwig's feelings like that. Like this was all some fucking game to him, like all Ludwig had suffered was just something he could use against their dad.

He turned and stalked off, pulling on his shirt as he went.

Gilbert lay there, listening to his brother's heavy footsteps and the front door opening and closing. He didn't take his eyes off the same spot in the ceiling.

And then something like a little sob bubbled up through his lips.

_No. I will not cry. I'm not going to fucking cry. This is stupid, this is so stupid it's all so fucking stupid, I'm so stupid…_

He brought his hands up and pressed them against his face, trying to take deep breaths.

The vinyl was sticky and uncomfortable against all his naked skin. Sticky with the sweat and come from his brother fucking him.

"Oh god…" He hadn't meant to say it aloud, but it came out as a tiny moan.

How had it come to this? A week ago, one little week ago, his brother had told him he was in love with him. And Gilbert had done exactly what a good big brother should. He said that they couldn't be together like that, but that he loved his little brother very much and always would.

One little week, and the world had changed. His life, Ludwig's life had changed. And no matter how much he wanted, he couldn't take it back. One simple fucking week, and he couldn't ever erase it. He couldn't ever be the brother he'd once been, the one who'd been deserving of Ludwig's admiration and love.

Gilbert had never lusted after Ludwig, never even remotely seriously considered having sex with him. And yet the very same night after Ludwig had confessed, he'd fucked his little brother. And it had happened again several times since then. But no matter how hard Gilbert tried to wrap his head around it, he couldn't grasp _how_ it had happened.

How had he gone from the loving, caring big brother he was supposed to be to this, a slutty mess lying in his own semen? How had he gone to kissing his brother in public bathrooms, or while speaking with their own father?

Ludwig was right. He was pathetic.

There was a tightness in Gilbert's chest. He decided he couldn't just lie there, so he sat up shakily, then stood.

_One thing at a time. Get clean._

He walked into his bathroom, moving automatically, still trying to control his ragged breathing. Turn on the shower. Quick soap and rinse. He didn't care that the water was cold.

Then towel off. Put on clean underwear. He walked back out to the den and gathered his clothes. He wiped off the couch with his towel. Get dressed.

Gilbert threw the towel in the dirty laundry hamper and stood still in the middle of his room.

_Next step._

There was no next step.

_What am I going to do. Oh god what am I going to do?_

Ludwig's face, hurt, scornful, kept appearing in his mind. He needed to do something. He needed something to do or else he wasn't sure what he would do.

He needed to get out, go somewhere. Just start moving, or else he felt he'd be paralyzed there in the middle of his room forever, like some pathetic statue.

Gilbert was down the stairs and pulling on his coat and shoes before he could think too much about it. Then out the door, down the sidewalk, legs working automatically, just moving to be doing anything other than standing still.

But moving wasn't enough. He was ready to burst. He wanted to hurt something, hurt himself, do something terrible, something he wasn't supposed to do.

He could go to a bar, but he didn't want to be that loser who was drinking alone just to get drunk. And he didn't trust himself to go back home.

Matt's was out of the question.

Maybe he could go to Tim's. See what he was selling. But Tim usually liked people to call ahead of time, set up transactions.

And then he realized where he was walking.

Gilbert hadn't been on this street in a long time, but he could tell now he was walking an old familiar route. Had he meant to come here somehow, subconsciously? Or was it purely coincidence?

But this was certainly something he shouldn't do.

It was just what he was looking for.

Maybe even a bit worse. But screw the consequences.

He turned a corner, and saw the small one-story house. He paused when he reached it, taking it in.

It hadn't changed since he'd last seen it. Still the same color shutters, still the overflowing garden and cracked walkway to the small porch.

Gilbert walked towards it before he could second-guess himself. A surge of something thrilling coursed through him as he approached the door, the way it always did when he knew he was breaking the rules.

He rang the bell.

For a moment, there was nothing, but then he could hear the sound of footsteps coming to the door.

Gilbert's stomach tightened.

The door opened.

Gilbert smirked at the shocked man standing in the doorway.

"Evening, Arthur."

...

A/N: There you have it! Hope you enjoyed the boys' "experimentation" and the ending-Ok, so, I know it's not exactly what you've been waiting for, since I'm not explaining anything yet, but-Gilbert and Arthur are finally face to face!

Might be a bit longer wait for the next update, as I am very busy in the coming weeks with travel and school, but as always I'll do my best!

Thank you for reading and your ever-appreciated support! Please leave a review if you feel so inclined, I do love reading them. :)

Next chapter: Ludwig goes to Angie and rethinks his argument with Gilbert, and, of course, need I say-Gilbert and Arthur.


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